Inchcock v Alto – The Suicide Discussion

“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?

Obvious innit?

No!

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!

So?

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…

Putin?

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!

No!

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.

I did?

Yes, plan B you went for…

Plan B?

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!

Part of Inchcocks Make Them Laugh Series

Inchcock Today: Alto-Ego’s Confessions In Ode

Sunday 3rd April 2020

Inchcock’s Confessions In Ode

Written By Alto-Ego Inchie!

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!


Part of the Inchies Make Them Laugh-In-Ode Series

Inchcock Today: Diary with Odes

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…


Inchcock Today

Whoops 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!

Morning all!

Inchcock Today: Belated Photos, Comments quips and an Ode or two

Goodeth Morningski!

A nosh from earlier in’t week…

Odd sunsetting photographs.

Van Parking Expert!

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!

Inchcocks Local News Snippets – With Odes – Part 854⅐th

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!

.

.

Inchcock’s Local News Snippets – With Odeing

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!

Another murder?
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

Arson?

A requirement to do two thirds?
Gawd, our judges, are soft turds!

Huh!

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!

Yep!

March 1st 2020: Inchcocks Diary

Tuesday, March 1st 2020

The Monday Nosh… Ode

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: Ode to Old Nottingham Memories

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!.

Inchcock’s Abysmal Odeing – For Fun

Inchcock Today: Tuesday 15th February 2022: Farcicalisationing again!

Vascular-Dementia-Doreen Strikes Again!

Tuesday 15th February 2022

Another slightly better night, at least once I got off to sleep. Over the past couple of weeks now, I’d been jumping awake, nervously, anything from 5-minutes to half an hour after nodding off, but I’ve always been able, once I’ve fought off the Thought-Storms, that is; to get back into the land of nod swiftly again. Last night it was getting to sleep in the first place that was the problem. I even turned on the TV cause that usually helps me fall out of consciousness. But not last night, it was ‘orrible! Once did, the waking ups started, of course, but no more often than average. Hey-Ho! I’m losing faith in the Hemp capsules already.

So, it was later than usual when I did stir back into imitation life. Not that I noticed at the time, cause the need to utilise the Porcelain Throne was soon on me. Off to the wet room, and Gawd Blimey! Another wet but willing evacuation! I got things cleaned up… and the wet room was washed and changed into day clobber, teeth, eye drops, ear drops, Germolened Little Inchies final lesion, and Germoloided Harolds Haemorrhoids. It’s a job every morning and night this is! 

Made a brew of the J Sainsbury’s Extra Strong tea; this is not bad at all, but not up to the standards of Thompsons Punjana or Glengettie. Got on the computer to start updating yesterdays blog!

A flipping hard slog with the Shaking Shaun interference… I like that word, but why?

The intercom sounded and lit up. Hello, Sainsbury are good and early this morning! 

I gave the deliveryman two boxes and a carrier bag. He filled with the delivered items for me, and he put them through the door in the hallway for me. I slipped him a choice of drinkies in thanks, and off he trudged.

I’d not seemed to get much this time? Before sorting them out, I had a look on the web to see the order. A good few items are unavailable, and I’d ticked the no substitutes on them. Very risky letting Sainsbury’s make substitutes, I can tell yer! Still, some of luxury, spoil-the-old man foods had arrived, Hehehe!

How the fresh cream French Horns got requested is beyond my imagination… me? Buying fresh cream French Horns? Ahem! With whole cream milk? Lemon cream desserts, too? I also tried some JS own label Extra Strong Teabags. (Not bad at all!) The cheesy twist pastries looked good. I’ll have them later on tonight. Worra feast in store!

A few minutes after getting fodder stored away, ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ chirped up from the doorbell, and in walked Carer Cassie. She’s brought with her the monthly prescriptions. While she was putting them away, I nattered away.

During which something came up in the one-way conversation. And as we went into the main room, I said I’d make a note to remind myself to phone the Doctor…

It then dawned on me… I could not find the Nokia! I always leave it to the computer’s right, as a rule. Where the charging cable can reach the phone from the socket?

Later, I felt an Ode coming on…

That if I could not find it this morning!
When Carer Cassandra came calling…
She set off, with me, both searching…
My hopes were not worth a farthing,
Of me discovering, finding…
My beloved mobile, a precious thing…
It was most irritating and frustrating…
Irking and embarrassing!
Cassie looked in every nook was persisting…
Every room searched, drawer-jostling…
Finding it? My hopes were now fading…
Vascular Dementia Doreen, it was very degrading,
We investigated under the chairs, it was so rilling,
Cassie carried on, with no getting ruffling…
Where can it be? Then I needed a wee-weeing…
Off to the wet room, not easy peeing and thinking…
Wondering where I’d put the danged thing!

I got back to the main room – & Cassie was smiling! ♥
With eyes that were brighter and twinkling…
She pointed out where she found the phone hiding…
Yes, Cassie found it, I gave her a kiss, but I was infringing,
But she gave me no whinging; I started singing!

We both began grinning and laughing!
I was so happy, I could have wet my underclothing!
It’s lovely to find a little joy in something…
Although later, I was scathing, scything, and seething…
At getting in such a mess… things I’m constantly losing,
I’m an expert on having things go vanishing!

With my telling her of my funny turn yesterday, I was unsure if cleaner Esther had called on me or not. Cassie pointed out that she could have moved the mobile; because the computer desk looked like it had been dusted. (which means it is usually dirty? Haha!)

Oh, I’ve not said have I, where the phone was found? It was moved a few inches from its usual position, but out of sight, underneath the keyboard! I feel a greater fool than ever now!

The blooming day was nearly gone by the time I started on this post! Getting the Monday blog finished after all the time spent searching for Nokia-Nigel, meant it cost me a total of over five hours before I got it finished and posted off. Adding the fact that Peripheral Neuropathy Pete had joined with Shaking Shaun in making things nigh on impossible to type without so many errors… I should have been angry, but no… I was grateful that Cassie helped me find the mobile to use…

Then a Mega Mess! Could I  remember who I was going to call in the first place? Could I ‘eck as! Now, this is just how life is going for me at the moment…

I had the oddest thoughts and confusions. I was still grateful for Cassie finding errant mobile for me, and at the same time, felt worthless and full of self-loathing for not being able to recall who I needed to call!

There are people like lovely Lisa and Sister Jane, who I want to converse with. But no time left again! The evening carer is nearly due! And I’ve not had anything to eat yet! Ah, well, no wonder I’m not sleeping well.

I did a little Facebooking answered some comments. Then had a look at the WordPress reader. I just made the WP comments; now I shall have to give up blogging and prepare some fodder prepared… I imagine I will not be back until the morning.

Really weary now, just about done in, and the fodder had to be prepared, cause sometimes even hunger can survive the onslaught of weariness. (Ah, a touch of cleverness there, I thought?)

Bean and cheese and beef pasties, naughty cheese curls, slow-cooker destroyed potatoes by doing them for eleven hours! Tsk! Roast chestnuts and, sadly, the last of the black tomatoes. However, I did make too much of a plateful, and I was running out of eating-steam and considering abandoning the by now gruelling task of shoving any more food into my gullet, and…

♫ Oh, Susan ♫ chimed out from the doorbell. I instantly morphed into a smiling, happy, hopeful and cheerful chap; the moment that I saw it was Carer Julie coming into the room!

I asked her if she had enjoyed her holiday, as the others told me she was on. But she had been poorly, not on holiday. After giving me the medications, we had a too long chinwag and laugh. I mentioned that I had not paid her yet for posting the package to Lisa and Bill for me. And forwarded the thanks of Billum for her help. Showed her some photo’s graphics I’d done of Lisa and Bill, and she showed interest. ♥

But she really had to go; I had delayed her a long enough. I insisted she tool some treats and nibbles if only to help cover the cost of her doing the mailing for me. The last two little Natoora tomatoes from the fridge were taken. I do hope she and her partner enjoy them. ♥ Said my sad farewells to Carer Julie.

Washed, got down in the awesomely uncomfortable recliner, and prepared for the arrival of Sweet Morpheus

A mention of Sweet Morpheus, or sleep…
Sometimes he won’t let me get a peep…
This makes me tired, and I want to weep,
I’ve tried, it doesn’t work, counting sheep,
Nightly the wakings up rerepeat,
Insomnolence, can it be beaten?

Tonight, I gorrof to sleep really quickly…
Woke; pains from Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley,
I thought I’d been a kip for hours… ghastly…
I’d slept for ten minutes at most, eerie?
God of Sleep & Dreams, ignoring my sleep-deficiency?
Nodding back, and again started dreaming…
About ‘Man from Uncle’ Mr Waverley?

My shooting awakes, giving me hypertension…
Spent a while, in fretting and procrastination,
Back in the land of nod, minutes later, depression!
This time shaking from failed neurotransmissions,
Like a shot, back and deeply sleeping…
Why and how is beyond my comprehension…
Seems I’ve got a staying-asleep suppression?

Is it possible to get a sleep transfusion?
Will Sweet Morpheus be open to persuasion?
Can I bribe him or offer complete adulation?
Every time I nod off, I awake in absquatulation…
Can one invent a sleep button? Press for activation?
Or will I continue suffering mental altercation?

The Pure Hemp is bringing no sleep satisfaction…
I can see no improvement in my nocturnal hibernation,
I suppose I’ll be left with new mental disorientation,
I crave rest at times; there’s no commiseration,
I’d see the Doctor, but that’s another complication,
Hearing on the phone, she bounces back my email communication,

I see no way to make things better, somnambulatorily,
Fact is, today, I feel pretty poorly…
Awaiting the next Whoopsie…
Willing life to be hassle-free…
Asking profound questions of me…
Getting self-answers, of fiddledeedee!

Sad, innit?

Inchcock Today: Monday 14th February 2022: Confusionableitis!

Inchcock Today

Monday 14th February 2022

Jolly Good Morning!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ablutioning Farces

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

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

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

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

Off into the kitchen to get the kettle on…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then I made a bottle of orange juice.

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

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

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

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

Bad news on the weather front warning.

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

Six of the best kitchen window shots of the Sunset tonight

Bootiful”

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

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

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

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

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

Ode To The Day

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

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

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

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

The Nottingham Lads Diary – with Odeing

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