Inchcock Today – Memories Evoked + Odes

Looking at an old photograph can stir memories, even in some Doreen Dementia suffers, like I am. So here are my initial ruminations of looking at this picture… They may come over as a little out of sync, but one’s thought triggers another. I had to be adding them than before I wrote what I was doing… then I forgot what I had started typing. Sometimes remembering later, begin to correct things, and another unrelated memory pops up… to be forgotten about again. Later on, I got all confused but carried on anyway. Sorry about this.

This now embarrassing, brownie-camera photographicalisation shows the signs of authentic poverty in which I grew up. Although, at the time, I believed we were luckier than some of the residents of Brookfield Place. But not many.

Obviously, I was scrubbed up using carbolic soap. I was redressed into pants that didn’t fit; the crumbling walls on the 1899-built two-up, two-down terraced house make me cringe when I see it now. See that? I was nine house bricks high at the time. Not much taller now!

Having a photo taken was an event in those days. I believe Mr Wright, whose family lived at the end of the small terrace, number 10 (I might be wrong, of course). Mr Wright was the only person nearby who was well off enough to own a camera then and generously took pictures and got them developed and given to those in them. A wonderful man.

Christine. Mr Wright and Jane are on holiday in Mablethorpe! I recall feeding the family dog Rover (No pets were allowed on the caravan site in those days.) each time Mr, Mrs Wright, and daughter Christine went on holiday, taking Sister Jane with them; after Jane returned home, I’d better explain that while I think of it.

A better-off side of the family, with five boys, wanted to adopt Sister Jane. Dad opposed this, the fights started, and it was agreed that Jane would of out to Italy with the family. Which left me thinking, Jane was ‘out there’ having a ball, while I was left with Dad (Mother had done another runner from the police). Had to do the cooking and what cleaning I could family. Clean out and set the fire but did not start it until I saw Dad coming home. He thought it was overspending to make a fie for only one person. Give him his dinner, and get the things ready for the morning in the coal house ready for clearing out and resetting again in the morning. So, the crux of it was; that I was a smidge jealous, thinking that Jane was out there, in the sunshine, wanting for nothing, living the life of Riley… While Jane was ‘over there’ thinking that I was at home, living the life of Riley! Hahaha! In truth, poor Jane was miserable and had it a lot worse than me! She was molested, had to be a maid to the boys… When we found out we were both miserable, we had to laugh. As I understand it, each of the lads, who are now men, has been arrested and found guilty of various nefarious offences. Worra family!

Recollections of the folks living near my beloved Brookfield Place came to mind.

From the left, Sister Janet, Inchcock, Christine Wright, Mrs Wright and Walter. Can’t remember what we were doing or where we were when taking the snap. Either Mr Wright to son Brian would have taken it?

This picture, I do remember having being taken. A Door-knock photographer took it (2/3d a photo 11p in today’s money). Not cheap! The rather distinguished-looking (I don’t know how or why I remembered that?) cameraman said it’s usual to have a girl and boys toy in hand. I recall Jame going up to get her teddy from the bedroom, and I nipped next door to borrow a ball from my mate Jack. On my behalf, returning to have the picture taken. But putting on that forced smile was almost painful for me. Har-har!

A terrible picture of my blonde locks. This brings a scary memory back to me. Often I would be in the backyard. Our house was about eight-foot from a railway viaduct. On the left in the top photo) I would be playing or chopping wood in the backyard and the train; it was a busy line, with Arkwright Street Station, high above the houses. We got goods, commuter and the London Express’s all passing throughout the day and night. The houses shook, the windows rattled, the light swayed…

Yet, they never woke me up or bothered me because I grew up with it. Later, when we moved to Ipswich Circus, it was so quiet that I couldn’t sleep for months! True!

I lost my plot there, didn’t I? Sorry, where was I?…

Oh, yes! In the backyard, a neighbour usually would run at me and start to beat me around the head. This is all genuine! I had to wait until they had stopped, to find out why they were clouting me… had I done something naughty (not unknown), or as it usually was, the hot ashes falling from the trains had set my hair on fire again. (Which, more often than not, was the case)

It’s not surprising that I started losing my hair at 20-years of age?

Christine Wright, in front of her house in Brookfield Place.

Not that Inchcock is creeping out behind her? Hehe!

I’ve no memory of this photograph being taken.

I think this one was taken in Wilford or West Bridgford.

Christine and Janet got me to pretend to be knocked over and lay under the Morris Ten car. Haha!

The next one, I can vaguely remember.

The hosepipe was out in the backyard. Fed through the window from Chrissie’s kitchen tap. It’s the summertime, and someone will get soaked, methinks… I vaguely remember grabbing the hosepipe in the cause of self-protection. When those two got together, there was always a danger of me being injured, embarrassed or molested! In this case, all three. And I got a good soaking, to boot!

♫ Memories are made of these… ♫

My family, as such, were Methodists, Wesleyan,
Dad rarely went to church; Mother was an Aryan…
We soon split up, first off to Sicily, went sister Jane,
Brother Pete joined the army to help keep sane…
Mother ran from the police, again and again…
So it was just Dad and me in the main!

Education and affluence, to me, were strange…
No class, I never heard of a counterpane…
Then, I had no bad habits from which to refrain.
As you’ll read above, I got set on fire by many a train,
I’d never dined out or been on holiday or on a jet plane…
I used to get bad headaches, not a posh migraine…
But life was never dull or mundane!

I soon learned that nothing in life is free or certain!
An outside toilet, in winter it froze up, even the chain!
The only interest in sex came from the Chaplain…
I never went abroad, to Italy, France or Bahrain,
Shopped at jumble sales in search of a bargain…
I was considered weird cause I didn’t like John Wayne!
My searches for romance were all in vain!

My hopes for my future were low and uncertain,
I’d sit in my flat, glumly looking out through the curtain,
Plans and designs were ruined cause of my scatterbrain,
At least I’ll never become part of Britain’s brain drain!
My sanity was fluctuateable and hard to retain…
Timourousness, trepidation, and a cruel self-disdain…
My confidence and self-esteem had been mislain!
Don’t suppose I’ll ever find them again?

Is my Alto-Ego me, or am I?
Why do I even wonder why?
Would I be happier as a troglodyte?
Would I still like Marmite?
I think I’m losing this brain fight…
My last driblets of sanity are taking flight…

I’ve tried to do moral things and not to be profane,
Up to now, I’ve avoided trying out cocaine,
From alcohol, greed and bullying, I abstain,
Yet feel my life is almost transmundane…
Are my thoughts really mine or nongermane?
Shit!… I’ve forgotten what I was going to write!

.

Inchcock: Diary-Belated Photographicalisations 1.2

Including revelations from Inchcock’s past!

Oh, yes! and an Ode, too!

A mixed bag of Moon pictures from the kitchenette window.

I tried both cameras as well. Only the last one was any good. Hehehe! There were plenty of absolute failures taken, though.

Peripheral Neuropathy Pete struck at just the wrong time again! He’s clever at doing that, a cunning ailment indeed! Haha! I was just pouring the boiled water into the mug to make my Glengettie brew!

Memory Prompting old snap!

revelations

If I recall correctly (I sometimes do), this was taken in the back yard of Co-op Grocery store number 118. Arleston Drive, in Wollaton. I started there as Greengrocery Manager. During the happiest working days of my life! Boss, store Manager, Mr Morris. Got up to Assistant Manager of the store… and made a terrible choice, in accepting a job in Beeston, as the Greenfruit – Wet Fish shop manager. I often wondered over the years what would or could have happened career-wise if I’d stayed in Grocery as Mr Morris’ second man. Cause the Greater Nottingham Co-op got a new chairman, who unfortunately oversaw the retail foods departments. He closed the bakery, the cobblers (shoe repairers), and opened Superstores, the first being in Trowel, a couple of miles away from Lily Grove, where my shop was situated. Of course, they had lower prices, and my sales went down 33% the week the store opened! So… they closed it, along with many more small retail outlets.

The real sadness was that when I first saw him at the next shop, I was put in, another one due for closure, on Nuthall Road. I’d increased sales at that shop, mainly the wet fish sales, they were up 45%. But meeting him brought out the hatred for him in me. He was a smug know-all. I made it worse when he asked where I got catfish from. I picked up what he thought was catfish, told him I get it from Rossfish in the market – and told him, “It’s not catfish, it’s called Dogfish!” With all his conies and bum-lickers with him, this did not go down too well with his ego! Me laughing might have made things worse. After that, the hatred was mutual.

Until the new Superstore opened, a Bulwell Superstore, half a mile away! I was trying to sell cod fillets at 3/6d a pound, and the Superstore was retailing at 2/- lb! I was doomed!

He made my life a misery for years! When I moved to Tesco, I prayed he’d call in to laugh me off, but he didn’t. Probably just as well; it may have saved him from a few broken teeth and me from a prison sentence! Gawd, I was livid at the man!

But all came good years later, the Greater Nottingham Cooperative Society went bust! Hahahahahahahaha! The Co-operative Wholesale Society bought them out, and the first thing they did was close his miracle superstores! But I’d like to have seen him once more, just to laugh in his fat superior face! Still, that’s enough of that!

♫ Food, Glorious Food ♫

Just look at the healthy foodstuffs I had delivered! Bananas, Baked bean & cheese pasties, Cheese twists, fresh garden peas from Nicaragua. Potato and leek pie! Only one packet of smoked bacon this week. Apple pies instead of cream cakes? I did overdo the lemon & lime possets, I admit. Well, they were half-price!

Getting the fodder into the fridge, a minor calamity took place. As I took this photo above, the possets fell off the shelf, one hitting the corner of the drawer below and chipping some plastic off of it… I hastened to make sure that the other jars were safe from falling further…

I trod on the splinter of plastic! Well, the blood flowed! It messed my socks, feet, slippers and the freshly mopped floor. But did I swear and curse? Of course, I did!

I was in the middle of sorting things out. I’d done the floor, and I was in the wet room, tending to the feet and socks and a change of clothes. I thought I’d heard a bell or chime from somewhere? I limped naked into the front room and had missed a call on the mobile, so I rang the number back. The Hairdressers in Winwood Court also do chiropody, telling me my appointment to have the plates done; it was in 20 minutes!

I was a little flummoxed as I rushed to get the dressing done, got the trousers on, left the socks for Sarah to put on for me after doing my feet, checked things for safety, no taps running, owt on the stove etc. and fell chuffed as I left the flat, thinking I can just make it in time…

As I got to the lift, a chap from the other end smiled at me… and said, “You know you’ve got your pyjama bottoms on?” Der!!! I replied that I do now, thanks!

Scrambled back into the apartment, changed into the trousers, and legged it to the hair salon as fast as possible. I may have been a minute or two late. Judging by the glaring look that I got when I entered, possibly a little longer. Oh dearie me! But it got worse… I had the feet done, then slipped her a can of G&T in thanks, and started to wheel the walker trolley out of the door.

I again got the same threatening look as she said: “Are you going to pay then?” No trace of a smile involved! Oh, things are not going well; Dementia Doreen is having a ball with me!

I got back up to the flat and cautiously made a brew of Thompsons Punjana. I say cautiously, cause the kettle is kaputt, and I have to use a saucepan of water – high-risk that, if Peripheral Pete, Shaking Shaun, or Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley should kick-off!

I checked on the order for a kettle on Amazon. Says it is coming tomorrow… It says tomorrow, by 22:00hrs, the tracker says it has not even near to arrived for despatch yet? Hmm! I was hoping it would come sooner; I’m risking s good scalding using the saucepan.

Nosh: Bean and cheese pastie. Two cheese twirls, yellow tomatoes and tons of fresh garden peas. Haha! Flavour: 8.2/10.

Moon from a distance.

Ah, that’s better!

Another decent effort, I’ll try again… I did. I’m too ashamed to show three smudged shaky efforts and this one below…

When I got back and worked on the blog for a good while, I suddenly panicked that I may have left the tap running when I had to dash out to the foot-lady… I shot like lighting to check on the wet room… Well, that’s a lie, but I hobbled as hastily as I could. I am glad to report that I had not left the faucet running at all…

However… I still nearly fainted when I got in the wet room? I’d left the convertor heater on full blast! What a wally!

A sunset from which day, I’ve no idea. But it’s pretty?

If the SD card does not fall apart again and the card reader on the computer is behaving, I’ll have a look later to see if there are any more pictures on there I’ve not put on. Ah, got some!

Forgot about them, me? Yes!

Well pleased with these figures… again!

Body temperature up a bit; it reminds me of the quiz show on the telly years ago, the Golden Shot with Bob Monkhouse. Do you remember it? It was not a brilliant show, but it was so good when Mr Monkhouse compared it. Poor Charlie Williams, who took over when Bob left, was lost. He was a great comedian all the same.

Hello, I got one more sunset photo in tonight! Bootiful!

Ode To My Photographicalisationings

Why is the quality of my photos varying?
Well, there are several reasons, some being…
Firstly, there’s Shirley’s-Shoulder-Shuddering…
Dizzy Dennis is always ready and lurking…

Peripheral Neuropathy Pete… now theres’ a thing!
He can make me wobble, things go dropping…
My right leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dancing!
Nasty, if I’m Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucketing!
Even taking a Weak-Unwilling-Negligible-Trickling,
Throughout the room, the wee-wee goes sprinkling!

Vascular Dementia Doreen, the one I’m fearing…
She gives my memory and brain a pommeling!
Reflux Roger, thankfully now rarely troubling…
Duodenal Donald can be bad, he’s not piffling!

Next, the latest big three ailments arriving…
Cataracts Kathleen, the most serious warning…
48 weeks to wait, before a consultants scheduling,
Right eye worse, with Saccades Sandra troubling…
Glaucoma Gladys, the eyesight is now failing…

The oldest ailments, that are still surviving?
Little Inchies Fungal Lesion, Phimosis, can he sting!
Mechanical Heart Valve, no need for alleviating…
Especially as it is thankfully working!

Another ailment that doesn’t affect picture taking…
The ear holes have long been handicapping…
Now, the ear wax in them is tightly congealing,
I can’t hear the telephone ringing,
Hear the radio or television playing…
Hardly hear the chap upstairs banging and knocking…
But of course, the last line is an advantage!

Try to make them Laugh Series

Inchcocks first solo visit to the Slab Square: In 1955

Inchcock then & now Haha!

Despite the poverty, I was at my happiest…
In my younger years, and almost positive!
Full of vigour and at my determinest…
I set out one Sunday to slab Square, looking my nattiest!
First time alone on a trolleybus, at my swankiest!

43 Trolleybus in town

The bus ticket cost all of 3d,
Today that would be about ½ a new penny,
I wanted to get a Sunday paper, you see…
Take it to Dad; make him proud of me!
But the newsvendor asked, where’s your Daddy?
I didn’t realise he knew my Dad, Harry!
He told me to take myself home and hurry!
But he did give me a newspaper for Dad, for free!

West Bridgford (WBUDC) bus

So, I did, on a posh, pretty coloured WBUDC,
West Bridgford Urban District Council, you see?
We didn’t argue with adults back then, tactfully…
Agreeing with grown-ups, had desirability…
Cause of their clipping you around the earhole, ability!

I hastened home…

I hurried home, in hope of a visit from Auntie Kerry…
She liked to bath me, which always affected my psychoactivity,
I think she had some habits, mayhaps, eccentricity?
She scrubbed me up well, with dexterity, not dignity!
I always greeted her arrival with emotional glee!
Not understandingly, but happy… and expectantly…
Knowing (praying for) what she was about to do to me! ♥
I longed for her visits, and was her greatest devotee,
And to think that people said we were an odd family? Hehe!

Well, perhaps we were…

How things change… Hehehe!

Good Morning, all!

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: Sunday 27th February 2022

Inchcocks Morning Ode…

There are some things of interest, some nostalgic…
I wish to admit to and share on this Samstag,
Like my being an insomniac…
But not a kleptomaniac…
My ailments ensure I move about, looking like a maniac!
My stomach doesn’t look like a sixpack…
The flesh wobbles, flails about, and bounces back…
This is not my only physical drawback…
Cateracted eyes are going; I can just see a haystack!
The hearing is fading, teeth covered in plaque…
Medical bother, I can’t get to see the quack,
My hobbling pace is down to that of a lollygag!
When Jillie came yesterday, she brought me a snack…
Did I mention it? To me, she’s an aphrodisiac! 💘

Inchcock: Sunday 27th February 2022

Gobsmacking! I woke up at 06:40hrs, having had an uninterrupted straight six hours of kip! At last! I think the Hemp capsules, just one at night, must be working! We’ll see!

The fight to free my substantially flabbier and grossly larger-stomached body from the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, nauseously beige-coloured, not-working, rusty, rickety, difficile, crumb-covered tatty recliner; went so smoothly! No Dizzy Dennis’s antics, Cartilage Cathy was hardly any hassle at all, and no toe-stubbing. Arthur Itis, Duodenal Donald, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, were all calm!!! I realised this may be bluff from the body, so I delayed going into a Smug-Mode!

As I was hobbling into the kitchen and working out how long I’d been asleep, I cracked the right shoulder against the door frame! The glasses came off, I dropped the empty bottle I was going to refill! Of course, I took in all in good spirits. After respectaclising myself and cleaning up the mess, and laughed away as I got into the kitchenette. Ahem!

I realised it was Sunday (I usually work these things out within an hour or so of waking up, you know). So, I got all the food and implements needed for Prepping Josie’s chilli stew. Doing pork for her today, for a change. Chopped the veg and added it to the saucepan with the seasonings.

As I rinsed out the lemon washing up liquid bottle before putting it in the waste bag, the bubbles went everywhere, including up in the air! Got back and reran the tap, but it was no good; the suds had died a death. Shame! Like lightning… well, I hobbled as fast as I could and got the Canon to photograph this min-phenomenon.

I got on the computer to finish off yesterday’s blog. The door chime chimed, and I thought it might be the Amazon man with the belated bleach, but it wasn’t.

It was the nippy, perky, Cheeky Charley Carer. Who told me off for spelling her name wrong. She got the medications sorted out, and we had a little nattering session. During which she took a selfie with the Canon, of both of us! Chose her choice of treats (Back of photo), and off she went, taking the waste bags with her. ♥ You just can’t help liking her!

Ten minutes later, ♫Oh Susana ♫ chimed again. It was the food from J Sainsbury’s. The chap took the bags through to the kitchen for me; that was a nice gesture. As he left, he mentioned that I did not look too good. Oh, I felt okay? The first thing I did was get the potatoes in a cool fark place. See the potatoes above? Sainsbury’s new slogan, Helping everyone eat better, Does not ring true, does it! They also had only one day’s life on Strawberrys and two on the yellow tomatoes. One substitute and two unavailable items;  Which really helps the new slogan get across, dunnit? ‘Sainsbury’s, Helping everyone eat better‘ Crap!

The food cupboard had room left in them both? And the fridge was looking most positively sparse! Ring-pulls on the peas and chilli were no longer on the cans.

No fresh garden peas are available, along with lemon cheesecakes. And the baked cheese curls were loose in the box, with no wrapping!

I wonder which overpaid dimwit came up with this Catchphrase-Motto’? Hogwash! Proof of J Sainsbury’s commitment to their new logo.

Got on with updating the Saturday blog via what bits I could remember and the scrawl on the notepad. I kept checking on the cooking meal for Josie, in between wee-weeing and blog working.

The intercom buzzed, and I thought the Amazon bleach had arrived, even though their Email said it would be coming twixt 15:00>18:00hrs. But I could see no one on the lobby camera? Mmm?

Eventually, I got the blog almost finished, then realised the time, and had to get the Josie-meal readied and served. So, I did! I’d made far too much. So I put another serving in the grey-lidded pot, so she can have another nibble later on. I have to say, this pork one did taste good when I tried a spoonful! Added the extra tidbits; The G&T, Yorkie bar, Cadbury’s chocolate mini rolls, cheese discs, a pot of Devon custard, and two tiny pots of pineapple jelly desserts. Then in a bid to get it to her before it lost its heat, I plodded out into the lobby and rang her bell. She soon answered the door, making her usual perusal of the meal, asking what is it this week then?

I told her I’d put pork instead of beef in the Chilli-stew this time. And again, she told me I’d have her looking like Betty Bunter. Can anyone remember the Betty Bunter character? I’m sure she was in a comic in the ’50s. The comic title was June! The lads had Billy Bunter and the gals Betty Bunter… not sure I can remember the comic’s name. I’ll have a look on the web for Betty Bunter later. Which I did, here she is! It was Bessie Bunter!

I got back to the flat and got all the washing up done. Then posted the blog off. Visited Facebook, WordPress Reader, WP Comments… all between taking wee-wees, of course. Tsk!

16:40hrs: The Amazon box of bleach arrived. As the deliveryman plonked it on the floor through the door – I thought… this is poor! I immediately had a bit of a panic-station, DEFCON-two warning come over me! I didn’t like the idea of the label being on the side of the box. Got it into the kitchenette and used the sharp knife to carefully open it. It was apparent that every bottle had leaked! Good job; it was crap bleach; it had only worked its way through the inner box. I had a bit of a kerfuffle as I got the bottles from the decaying box and into the sink. Where I checked each one and cleaned it with paper towels.

Having not long gotten over J Sainsbury’s insulting treatment, now it was Amazon’s turn to insult me. Some of the bottles weighed far less than the others; obviously, they had spewed out more bleach. Grumph!

I got on with cleaning and drying them, putting each one in the rectangular bowl, in case they leaked again later; at least the escaping bleach should be contained to some degree… I hope!

Francis

I nipped the Strawberries down to Francis’ apartment. I almost forgot about taking them for her this week. Slipped her a cheese twist pastry as well. I hope she likes the cheese twists… ♫ Come on let’s twist again, Like we did last summer, come on… ♫

Been such a busy day for me in some ways. Good job, I remembered, cause they were delivered with one-day shelf-life left on them by J Sainsbury’s! Oh yes… How does it go? ‘Sainsbury’s, Helping everyone eat better.’

Made a long-awaited start on this blog, and an hour or so later, the tune of ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ chirped up. I was so glad that Carer Julie came to see to tend to me.

Julie kindly listened to me moaning about the Sainsbury’s and Amazon deliveries. She even checked the bottles to see they were safe. She really is an Angel to me. America’s loss, and aged decrepit Nottinghamians gain. 💗

The Sherwood sunset was not as dramatic as it has been these last few nights, but still a wonderful Mother nature sight to see.

The blogging was slow-going yet again. I surrendered to the eyelids’ demands and gave up. I’ll continue in the morning. Hopefully, Hahaha!

Inchcock: His First Sporting Triumph – Well, I say triumphs…

Inchcock: His First Sporting Triumph

Well, not exactly

I dreamt of playing for the school at football,
I couldn’t dribble or kick a ball, but that didn’t matter at all,
The pneumonia epidemic had stuck in the fall,
Not many players are well enough and available at all,
Then, from desperation, the coach did call!
You’re in the team, cup match, we need a win, vital,
Having to ask me, I knew he felt contemptible.

I dare not let them down, or I’d suffer a keelhaul,
Matchday, I arrived first, at my 4’3″ tall,
Regarding the rules, my knowledge was minimal,
Cold, raining, and then the fog began to fall…
Players, neither team had the wherewithal.

An eight-a-side to play agreement was made
We took to the field, the rain began to squall,
“You’re in goal Chambers!” Any position I’ll be ineffectual,
I jumped but couldn’t reach the crossbar at all,
What an introduction to school football!

The fog got heavier, and the coaches got conflictual,
We were down 13-0, the coach said it was only 12!
A fight ensued, but injuries were only minimal,
They decided to go into the gym, to play football,
When we got inside, and we’d lost some footfall…
Lads from both sides absconded, no longer visual,
Anyway, someone had nicked the ball!

Part Of The Nottingham Lads Tales Of Woe – In bad Rhyme Series

Inchcock – Mon 5 Oct 2020: Brilliant news about Sister Jane – busy day – cataclysmic end!

♫Doo – do-do-do, doo doo doo doo…♫ TFZers Clint!

Monday 5th October 2020

Haitian Creole: Lendi 5 Oktòb 2020

: 01:40hrs: I didn’t need to wake-up, I’d not managed to get to sleep. I was so worried about Sister Jane and Pete, and not knowing. Duodenal Donald was ever-present in differing degrees of pain-giving. Tsk!

I passed wind and wanted a wee-wee. Escaped the £300, second-hand, not-operational recliner, and without even trying to check my balance.

I took a wee-wee, an LDSSM (Long-Dribbling-Spraying-Splashing-Marathon) one. Trotted off, taking the well-used EOGPB (Essential-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket) with me to be emptied cleaned and sanitised, to the wet room.

: Midway through disinfecting the bucket, and I need a second wee-wee! The AMD (After-Micturition-Dribble) was more like a river, Tsk! (Later on, inspired by the wee-weeing flood, I changed the original thought-graphic above. and made this new one up. I thought it was funny enough and topical to the Inchies Tale of Woe? Hehehe!

Had a clean-up, and changed the PP’s. Then off to the kitchen. The lights seemed to be twinkling a lot more this morning, a little like Sister Jane’s when she laughs and smiles, which brought back the fretting and hopes that she is alright. She and Pete have gone through the medical grindstone lately. ♥

The Health-Checks were done. Duodenal Donald was hacking away at me again, most uncomfortable.

I reckon the worrying about our Jane and Pete is the reason behind the pain. They do not deserve such bad luck.

The SYS was still high, but down on yesterday.

The pulse was up a lot, though? I’ll check ion a while to see what it should be, on Google.

The stick-thermometer showed a decent rise of body temperature, at 35.3°c. When I got the check done on the pulse, this is a screen-shot of what it should be. But it only confused me more than before. Why two columns of figures? Anyroad, I reckon the pulse is a bit high. Hang on, though, Resting Heart Rate? Conrad Confusion, reigns?

I did some waste bag making and sorting out. Having to make tiny bags is a bind, but necessary all the same, otherwise, using bigger bags, means they cannot go down the narrow, tiny, wrought-iron waste-chute openings. Hence, I now have about nine bags to deposit down the shaft later on, far too early to use it now, it’d wake folks up on its way down.

This photo on the right is from last Monday. When Diarrhorea Donald, had taken over control of the innards, from Constipation Konrad was blocking movements, and I had to dose myself with capsules. 

Well, two days later, and Constipation Konrad was back with a vengeance, and has been ever since. So today, it was Senna, and Macrogol needed to try and counter Konrad. And many gulps of the inutile, ineffective Peptac will be of little use, as it is typically, against the horrors of the Duodenal Donald attacks. The ulcers are getting to me today, they just plod on peppering me with stabbing pains that are worse than on previous occasions! Mind you, maybe Anne Gyna is a part of the problem as well? All I know is, something must be done if they don’t ease-off soon, it’s fogging the brain’s thoughts and intentions. I’ve got enough worries about with Jane and Pete.

During this short spell that I’ve been up and hobbling about, I’ve needed four wee-wees, and am now going for another! Crumbleckskins! At least I’m getting a variety of modes, that one was of the LPT (Long-Persistent-Type).

I got on the computer and found this mystery photo on the right, in the SD card.

It was apparently taken yesterday morning? Perhaps it could be a target for the Tate Gallery, do you think? Haha!

The updating of the Sunday post was a drawn-out affair. I carried on working on it, getting more and more frustrated with my lack of concentration. Notwithstanding the three varied wee-wees taken. Weeeee! Got the link emailed, and posted the diary off to WordPress. Did some Facebooking, then onto the WordPress Reader, some great stuff on today.

When I around to consulting the notepad to start today’s diary going, I came across what looked to me like; Por or Par, 86 or 81 (10.15), written, or rather scribbled. I wonder what the heck it means. It’s really irking me, it must mean something or I wouldn’t have written it, surely? Grumph!

I’m getting tired now, not surprisingly, with getting no sleep at all last night.

I tried to make a Morrison online order for later in the week, but no slots were available. So I had to use the Sainsburys service. This may cost me more, well, it will, and the risk of short-dated items is almost as bad as Morrisons are. Phlump! Still, I hope to get some canned Chill-Con-Carne from them, as advised by Tim Price in New Mexico, as an Anti-Constipation Colin! Hehe! (I’m not going to get too hopeful though, most stores seem to be running out of stuff lately. Panic buying, I suppose. I’ve an Iceland order coming in the morning. I hope they have the ready-made Gino D’Acampo Cannelloni Ragù meals in stock, I really enjoyed that!

My super G5 modern mobile phone rang out, well, it might not be that new, Ahem!

It was Pete, my Brother-in-Law. I was overcome with joy when I asked about Jane, and Pete said she was at the side of him and was okay.

I shed a few silent tears of happiness.

He explained what had happened yesterday with Jane; They rang the NHS 111 number and told them of the Cluster-Headaches the gal was suffering with, and her losing the sight of her left eye (I think it was the left one). They were advised to go to the QMC hospital straight away, and this they did.

The Bratton’s duly arrived at about 15:00hrs – and got seen at 22:15hrs. Blimus!

A rarity said Pete: But they let him go into the treatment room with Jane, which I thought was brilliant. We chatted, and Jane came on the line, and we had a three-way natter of sorts, but much of what we said was not sinking in, My gratification, delight, ecstaticness and euphoria at hearing that Jane was okay, was blocking out some of what we discussed.

I know that Jane has to go back again today to the hospital. I reminded them of the link to the NHS Cluster-Headache pages on the web that I’d emailed them. I think Jane will get some encouragement when she reads the treatments listed that are available to treat the painful problem.

I recall Jane saying the nurse told her what she could expect on today’s visit, anarchy! She told them that Mondays are pandemonium at the QMC (Queens Medical Centre). I hope she can get seen sooner rather than later. ♥

After ringing off, I was over the moon, never been so contented for years. I was making notes on the pad to use here later, and the landline burst into life.

It was my heroin, Jenny ♥. Explaining that Asda delivery drivers do not come into the flats. So she has been going down to fetch the stuff for various elderly and disabled tenants and asked if I had wheeler, they could use. I got the spare three-wheeler out of the balcony and shuffled it somehow to the front door. Where Jenny appeared in a few minutes – but it was no use to her, the bag wasn’t big enough. The poor gal came all the way up to.

Herbert was model-making again. Tap-Tap-Clunk-Tap. Hehehe! But it didn’t bother me today, with my finding out that Jane was alright.

I had a look at the latest Nottingham and regional Coronavirus figures. A little concerning, I’m afraid.

The intercom rang, and flashed. It was the Amazon delivery of shoes arriving. I didn’t see the delivery person at all, but they left the box outside of the front door for me.

I got the box inside and on the flat airer.

Opened the container, and had a look at the footwear contained therein.

Crap, but I only expected them to be at the silly-cheap price they were asking for them. They were the same price as the Shoe Zone.

I then took my ninth wee-wee of the day. Hogglebogwash! They are now coming out as SWOP (Sprinkly-Weak-Orange-Painless) modes.

I got on with doing some more waste bags up. The cardboard from the Amazon deliveries was flattened and got in with the other waste. As you can see, there are rather a lot of them now. Hehehe! I’ll have to make an effort and get them to the waste room I suppose, it may take more than one journey, methinks.

Hello,  the Dusty Springfield tune, ♫I only want to be with you♫ has burst forth from the front door. I bet it’s Josie returning the dinner things from yesterday. It was, bless her. She told me that she enjoyed the brown potatoes, which cheered me up a little further! I got the Nikon camera on the charge, and I have to say, struggled to get the bags to the waste room. A bit of a balancing act with the trolley full to overflowing.

I got the Tower of Pisa-like imitation ( Piazza del Duomo, 56126 Pisa PI, Italy) like three-wheeled trolley through the front door, and by then had three bags of refuse dislodged and down onto the floor. Tsk! 

Retrieved them and restacked them on the trolley, and went the few feet to the lobby door and out into the lift area. More black and white bags escaped and had to be retrieved, not without a degree of, well, silently muttered naughty curse words had been used and got to the waste room door.

  I got the trolley and contents into the chute area, and thought as I took this photograph, ‘This is going to be another on that the Tate Gallery miss, and lose out on’. Hehehe! On the very first bag to be deposited down the shaft, I caught the edge of the iron grating chute, and now have a reasonable sized new bruise to show off.

Backing the trolley out of the room after unloading the bags down the shaft, I accrued another injury on my left buttock, as I walked into the door frame with a jolt. That’d be because I’m a dolt!

With a newly acquired style of limp, thanks to my bum-banging-blimp, I made my way back to my apartmentette and got the dinner prepared and served up ready for consuming.  

A ‘reet-treat’. Taste-Rating 7/10, got the pots and me cleaned up, and stripped and settled in the £300, second-hand, c1968, rickety recliner. I wrapped the thin green quilt around me, got all comfy and warm, snug as a bug, and so contented and smiling inwardly, at the good news about Sister Jane! Then…

Then as I went to turn on the TV, I realised I had not turned the set’s power on yet. Grumbleklunk!

The quilt was taken off, I dismounted the warmth of the c1968 chair, and hobbled over to turn on the power socket. Accruing a stubbed toe en route on the Ottoman! Whincingtime!

Wrapped the thin green quilt around me, got all comfy and warm again in the recliner…

Then I realised that the TV remote control had dropped between the chairs as I got up to put the plug into the TV! (I’d taken it out earlier, to use the socket, for the camera charger). Argh!

I tried to retrieve the remote with the long picker-upperer – but only succeeded in moving it out of sight, under the recliner!

I was just-short of suicidal feelings; only dejected depressed, despondent, and disconsolate,  dispirited, downcast, dismayed, and down-in-the-dumps with my sudden return to a world of Whoopsiedangleploppery! Not really, but I was irritated a smidge! Hahaha!

The quilt was taken off, I dismounted the warmth of the rickety recliner again, and got down on all fours, got the torch (handily kept on the recliner at all times when not in use), located the remote, and with the long picker-upperer, managed to slide it out from the furniture, then toward myself, and at last, reclaimed it. I put it in the Ottoman with the torch, and then planned to get back on my feet… somehow!

I did eventually get back up, via the Ottoman.

Falling off of the Ottoman (more bruises on the thigh), and banging the left foot. Then tried clinging onto the recliner…

But the cushion slipped off as I grabbed the chair, and ended up back on the floor where I started. I moved the cushion out of the way and tried again…

Next try, I utilised the swivel chair and Recliner as leverage, and success! I was back upright…

I knocked off the bottle of Springwater when I turned to get the quilt back on the chair…

I distinctly remember as I sat down to try and settle again, knocking the spectacles off of the recliner, Argh! But they were the old pair that I keep nearby if needed during the night, and I just left them there, as I’d got varifocals on anyway, to watch the Frost TV programme that I wanted to see.

I got back resettled, yer again, in the c1968 recliner, and wrapped the thin green quilt around me, got all comfy and warm, and…

Naturally, just as the heart started to calm down, I needed a wee-wee! Flagtoggles! Gragnangles! Granglesbognessbuggerit!

I got up, all the rigmarole, and farting about had to be gone through again. Got to the bucket and the darned mode of wee-wee was of the FFFONEC (Forceful-Furious-Fast-Orange-Never-Ending-Cloudy) variety. I had to endure one of the longest PMADs (Post-Micturition After Dribbles) ever! Humph!

Getting silly this is! I wrapped the thin green quilt around me, got all comfy and warm again in the recliner (Deja vu?). Oy-oy-oy!

Got the TV turned on and had a swig of the spring water/orange cordial. Then, I turned the TV to channel ten and realised the two-hour episode of Frost, had only fifteen minutes left to run, so there was no point in watching really now! Tsk! 

However, I can report that all these Whoopsiedangleplop, Accifauxpas and botherations; that usually would have got me all hot-under-collar (Not easy when you’ve not got any clothes on, Hehehe!) Honestly, they merely irked me a tad – and I can thank Jane for that, learning of her being okay, and chinwagging with her and Pete for a few moments, got me through this injury-ridden load of frustrations, and I felt in good form, with a definite sensation on contentedness!

I switched the TV to Radio three, and found some jazz music to listen to, and settled down. The Thought-Storms, were for the first time ever, unprecedentedly, idiosyncratic, enriching and pleasingly palatable.

I nodded of and woke an hour or so later, to hear the end of Nina Simone’s 1958, ‘My Baby Just Cares for Me!’ through the headphones. (Very memory prompting!) The quilt had come off of my feet, and the left one was stinging a bit, and seemed, well it was, swollen? Presumably, this happened when the limb collided with the corner of the Ottoman. Ay-yay-yay! 

Sweep Morpheous soon returned, as my mind happily mused over Sister Jane feeling better. I just had to put this picture of Jane (left) Me, and Christine Wright. We were young, frisky and having fun in our back yard. It was taken a few years ago… Hahaha!

Notice Inchcock had hair in those days? What we were doing with the hose pipe, well, maybe Janet will see this and remember, then she can tell me. Over to you, Jane and Chrissie!

I removed the headphones, passed wind, and drifted blissfully, smiling inside, off into the wonderful land of Nod!

I thought I’d look back, on my victories

I thought I’d look back, on my victories

Bear with me; these are hard to find…

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

I had Double-Pneumonia at the age of three,

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

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

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

Which left just poor old Dad and me,

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

I survived being thrown in the Nottingham Canal,

Clinging to a barge rope, without much hope,

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

Hauled out, was taken home, full of hope,

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

GC Young

Jane away in Italy still,

Life was for us both, a bitter pill,

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

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

Duodenal ulcer, Anne Gyna I acquired easily enough,

Got shot at work, and a new heart fitted,

Fron flat to flat, I flitted,

Got made redundant, Cancer zapped, not fritted,

Job searching failed, hopes, attritted,

My desires, faith, and plans buffetted!

GC stick

Then along came Peripheral Neuropathy ailment,

 Jane, back from Australia, accompanied me,

To and from the hospital, she was heaven sent!

Then the stroke, I was a broken bloke,

Months in care, after the stroke,

Slowly, recovery began to cloak,

Bits of the old Inchcock, showed, bespoke,

And I knew something more would wroke!

Then the diabetes was found,

And things got worserer, all around,

When Saccades-Sandra, was also found!

But, my hopes and aspirations remain,

Although I am no longer sane,

I’m ready for the challenges again…

I just wish there was a little less pain!

I fang you!