Inchock’s 4th Escape from the lockdown – to town! Pictorially presented!

Inchock’s 4th Escape from the lockdown – to town!

This woz rote by Inchy’s alter ego – Hehehe!

The following, pictorials and odes, were created in support of the Depressed Nottinghamian At-Risk High-Rise Flat-Dwelling Prisoners Support Group. Donations gladly accepted.

Having made his escape bid plans again. He clandestinely crept to the lifts, falling over his three-wheeked walker-Guide, waited for the regulation Winwood Heights twenty minutes for a lift, and got down in time to miss the bus.

He waited patiently, for the next bus, but this proved something of a benefit for the old git. Not many folks about, but he still managed to corner one poor chap, and hastened to bore him to death verbally! The man wisely moved away.

And Inchcock, being instantly bored himself now, went into one his Sherlock Holmesian modes. Someone had been blowing their nose in the bus shelter, and stuffing the tissue under the seating?

He caught the bus and got out his crossword puzzles, but the driver, obviously a stock-car racing fan, nearly had Inchy out if his seat a few times en route to Nottingham City centre. Trying to hold onto his three wheeler, took some effort.

The old chap went itn the Pondland shop on Lower Parliament Street, and despite his painful and feet, enjoyed his hobble around the store, coming out with many items he didn’t need or want, Tsk!

He got to the checkout, and got himself in a right pickle and state of embarrassment at the self-serve checkout! The lady monitoring the tills, was greatly unimpressed with his continual dropping of things and farting about trying to retrieve them.

But did not offer to help, although she shared some sneerings, of hate, derision, scornfulness and causticness with him. He came out redfaced and £20 lighter. And took these three shots of the Milton Street junction.

Where he went into the Bargain Shop. A terrible experience! No one talking, empty shelves etc. But, he still spent over £21, mostly on Christmas treats for his family of friend in Woodthorpe Court.

He was struggling now, the three-wheeler trolley-bag full, and three carrier bags hanging on the handles, would make progress awkward for him. At least he remembered to but sone of the dar clothing cleaner. He set off on a limp towards the Slab Square.

On his hobble along Milton Street to Upper Parliament Street, he noticed the Nottionghamian pedestrians crossing the road against the lights again, but this is a usual, regular occurrence. He adjusted thos spectacles.

Which was a mistake, as he turned onto Upper Parliament Street, the old fart of a fool unthinkingly took the spectacles off to clean them.

They got caught in the facemask!

He crossed over the road, and down King Street. Near the bus stops, a chap dressed like the Beatles used to, with plaited hair hanging below his shoulders, stopped him and asked for ‘a couple of quid for a coffee’. As he eyed up the bags!

Inchy just said, ‘No!’ and carried in hobbling down the hill, turning to keep an aye on the youth as he did, to make sure he wasn’t following. Getting to the Slab Square, Inchy gor out his camera for a snapping away session.

He saw the little crowd and paparazzi outside the Council House steps, he went back into Sherlock Holmesian mode, and took a close up[ phot of whoever was on the steps. This person came by. Inchy got a decent shot of his/her head.

Inch repositioned himelf a bit closer, and waited for the right moment to get a view of what was going on. Nice zoomed-in photo for once. Asssumed to be the Sheriffess or Mayoress of Nottingham? Again, not single Policeman in sight today.

The tatterdemalion, dour, malagrugrous, weary, tellurian, dangerous populace of Nottingham, were showing a bit of itnerest, at least. Not many of them had face-masks on, but it isn’t law yet to wear them outsdoors yet, methinks.

The lad poddled his way wit hdifficulty up Queen Street to get to his bus stop, and caught a number 40 back home, to his never-restfull, beloved, always something to worry about, four years being upgraded and not finished yet, Winwood Heights.

He was the only passenger when the bus moved off from the terminus. Pondering on should he get out the crossword or not; one look at the mass of bags on the trolley, and the book being at the bottom, he decided against it!

The first passenger to get on the bus, was Face-Maskless.

The second one, had his mask under his chin.

A lady got on, and she had no mask on!

As the chin-mask wearing man got up tp get off, he gave Inchy a cautionary scowl, that was a bit threatening. As the bus progressed along St Anns Well Road, it passed the Health Centre where Inchy has to go for his bladder-scan.

This is St. Anns Valley Centre, 2 Livingstone Road, Nottingham NG3 3GG.

Events over his last two visits there, do not proffer the least bit of encouragement or confidence in Inchy.

The record, as Inchy explains:

  • February: Went to get the feet done, and they said come back later, we’ll have to lool at your health record.
  • March: They refused to do my feet, cause the Warfarin level was too high..
  • July: They refused to tend to my feet, because I’d just had the stroke.
  • August: Refused again, cause of my having been diagnosed with diabetes.
  • September: The did cut my nails, but said they will not be able to so in future. I have to go private in future.

Poor old sod!

He arrived back at his Woodthorpe Court, along with the mysterious wonders of, the Ghosts, Hobgoblins, Boll-Weevils, Aliens, Gremlins, Karakia-cursing entities, Hallucinations and Kehuas. Materialisations, Poltergeist, Lemures, Wairuas, Manifestations that permeate, pass through the pores and interstices of space, through the time-continuum. Usually, without rupture or displacement within the building. To cause havoc, fear and frustration, as they dislodge time itself, in their aspirations and skulduggery, to complete their given by Satan mission; ‘To annoy and scare the bejesus out of, and the pants off of the old energumenist, Inchcock’.

Thank you.

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

A simple bus ride to fetch my Spectacles

Not on your life, talk about things going wrong!

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

Really are true, and challenge my sanity  and mind,

Please persist reading, and you will find,

Why I have logicality, hopelessness and despondencies entwined!

Off to Sherwood to collect my glasses,

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

I’ll leave them a treat, containing molasses,

Might get a chinwag with whoever passes?

 ———————————————

Caught the lift down with no problem at all,

Left the bag, hope they have a ball,

Returned to lift lobby hall,

Catching the elevator, not easy at all,

I was so frustrated and appalled,

25 minutes later, the lift responded to my call!

 ———————————————

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

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

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

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

 ———————————————

On Winchester Street, The walker ran away from me,

I chased it, and is facticity,

I wedged it against a box for electricity,

To take this phot, but not with enough adequacy,

I stopped it again but with inefficacity,

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

———————————————

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

I must get the bus up the hill going back,

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

Off to the optician’s, the one drawback,

I was wearing a sort of anorak,

I was so hot, but didn’t hold back,

Got in the shop, and took the receptionist flak,

I was late, it seems was her crack!

———————————————

I had a long wait to be seen,

Not that I was all that keen,

£300 to pay, never again to be seen,

Crosswording while I waited,

The receptionist called me to be seen,

The lady dealt with me, glasses were fitted,

I got quite jolly-fully contented and witted,

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

I’d forgotten my pin number again,

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

From crying out loud, I did refrain,

She got the money through, this seemed diaphane,

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

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

Thanked her, pretending to understand, I did mislain,

Still, she didn’t moan or complain!

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

———————————————

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

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

I’d run out of the Kryptonite! 

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

Down to the traffic light corner,

And the bus passed by, I was too late!

I checked the next ones time and date, 

40 minutes, too long to stand and wait,

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

The hill looked a fearsome sight, 

The prospect of climbing it, made me feel uptight,

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

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

I was sure the gradient was gaining height?

The hobble home seemed infinite

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

For breakfast, I should have had some Marmite,

The time went by slowly, and things went quite,

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

To see a harrowing sight,

The 40 bus arriving, some tenants did alight,

 My energy was drained completely now, flat!

Didn’t have the energy for eating my cervelat,

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

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


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

Inchcockski – Thursday 3rd September 2020: A chinwag, natter and food delivered. Who could ask for more!

TFZers, in the Cool-It-Cabin?

 Thursday 3rd September 2020

Estonian: Neljapäev, 3 September 2020

03:35hrs: I stirred late in the day for me. But late getting to kip, but I got almost five hours sleep in! So, that was nice! 

As I began to edge my elephantinely-stomached body from the c1968 recliner, the regular call for a wee-wee arrived. I got my balance and utilised the OGPEB (Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Emergency-Bucket), it was another SWAT (Sprinkly-Weak-Apricot-Tinged) configurated wee-wee.

I got the bucket, and it’s not easy carrying it while using Metal Mickey (four-pronged-walking stick), to the wet room and cleaned and sanitised the tub. I had a Wobbling-Willie-turn, but no injuries this time. The right hand assumed a Mr Spock salute afterwards. Hahaha!

I took a good swig of the anandrious, weak, not-very-effective Peptac medicine, in hopes of avoiding bother again from Duodenal Donald later on in the day.

I used the stick thermometer and was pleased to see that it was almost the same as yesterday, at 34.6°c. Slightly higher than it has been, but it is nearer to the recommended temperature for an old going senile, chap wot-like-I-am. Haha!

The BP sphygmomanometer gave forth satisfactory readings for the first time in months! Sys was well down. But, I anticipate things will go back up again tomorrow. Ah, well!

I had to make an imitation dash back to the wet room, in response to the sudden tummy ache. And rumblings from within the innards!

Things started as they have been like for several days now. I got down on the raised plastic seat, and the evacuation started at its own pace and then stopped part-way. Out came the crossword book, I winced and grimaced with the pain, and waited for yonks for the action to restart. (Actually, I had one of my most successful Throne-Crosswording sessions-ever) Smug-Mode-Class-3-Adopted! When things reactivated, it was a case of ‘Ooh, argh, yikes’—Khaki-coloured, difficult, foul-smelling, and so messy. But no bleeding from either Phuvana Furuncle, or Harold’s Haemorrhoids. Smug-Mode-Upgraded to Class 2!

Poddled off to the kitchenette, taking this shot of the morning view. I got some new spuds in the crock-pot on low heat.

Then I made a brew of Glengettie tea and got onto the computer. As I sat on the swivel chair, PAP (Psoriatic Arthritis Paul), presented me with some sharp, persistent pains. However, only in the right knee? With the odd failings on Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, the occasional SSS shakes, and the knee, it was not an easy job updating the Wednesday blog. Especially with many trips to the wet room for the SWAT (Sprinkly-Weak-Apricot-Tinged) configurated wee-wees.

But, with my being a super-fit, robust, educated, and full of vim and enthusiastic young person, I stuck at the task. Ahem! Got it finished and posted off to WordPress. Sent the Email links, went on Pinterest, WP reader, and finally on to Facebooking.

Disappointingly, Facebook would not allow me to update my photo albums? So, I didn’t! (Tried again twice later, but no go!) Grumph!

Went to get the ablutions sorted out. A stand-up Job, cause the window cleaner might be calling early later-on, don’t want to miss him. It was yet another, unexpectedly, grand, Fantastic-Ablutionalisationing-Session! Toothache Terence a little annoyed, just the one dropsy. No, I say NO, dropsies doing the shaving! Fantastic!

The medicationalisationing was the opposite of the washing, though. Nine dropsies, part-cleared the floor cabinet of medications, lost balance getting the PPs on, clouted the back of my right hand on the door handle as I went over! Ah, well, you can’t win ’em all!

Drilling noises from above, I assume it was the floor fitters, doing the lift lobby on the 13th floor. Made up a couple of small black bags and took them to the waste chute.

Back to the flat, at the computer, when a message came through on my latest model of the mobile phone, what I’ve got. I rang night-club dancer, and ILC Warden Deana to ask for guidance. She said she would call later on in the day to have a look and do the yearly Q&A routine. I thanked her muchly.

The sky suddenly went all dark, so much so, I got the camera and took a shot of it through the balcony windows from the computer swivel chair. I checked on Facebook to see if it would allow me to add some photos to the albums, of course, it wouldn’t!

I did some updating of this blog, but it was hard work, and the Neuropathy affected shoulder was beginning to ache dreadfully, now.

The door chimes rang out, it was the window cleaner chap. He soon got on with sorting the job out, and we had a bit of a natter as he did so. I paid-up, and he booked me in for 1st November for the next call. Off he trotted to the next flat in need of his services.

Half an hour later, Deana arrived. She helped me out a lot today. After investigating the message on the phone for me, she found it was for Fire Alarm testing? Which has been done a fortnight ago, then by the firemen who attended the false alarm the following week? She explained that I had a medical appointment on Saturday morning. They rearranged the test for Wednesday 16th, twixt 0800>1300hrs.

Deana then checked the balcony door that will not lock at all. Deciding it wanted levelling. She rang the Nottingham City Homes maintenance back and got an appointment for them to look at the balcony door, on Wednesday 30th, twixt 0800>1300hrs.

Then went through my personal details as needed. I signed the tablet, and Deana trotted off, to do more examining. As usual, I felt a little cared for after this yearly visitation. ♥

I got some fresh peas podded, and cooking in the saucepan. Then checked the slow-cooker potatoes.

The weariness and fatigue arrived and hit me hard today.

Got the medications taken, and served up the nosh. As part of my abysmal efforts at dieting, I had another fish fodder food dinner. Bootiful!

Smoked mackerel, Royale surimi sticks, new potatoes, tomatoes, Irish Farls, and some terribly undercooked garden peas. Fish vinegar on the fish and potatoes, butter on the farls, and sea salt on the tomatoes. A selection of seedless grapes on the side. 7.5/10!

Then the importantist part of the day, a search for Sweet Morpheus! I was too tired to do any logical thinking, and even the Thought-Storms were not bothering me. IKt still took me ages to nod off. I had to keep waking up and utilising the OGPEB (Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Emergency-Bucket), every one of the annoyingly aggravating STS (Slow-To-Start) mode. All with PMAD (Post-Micturition After Dribbling).

Although often broken, I did get about four hours kip in, so nae worries.

Taketh care out their,

Although, to be fair,

When I had hair,

Not a lot there,

It disappeared somewhere,

Just like the sanity, I share,

It’s only fair and square,

To say, raising smiles everywhere,

Is for what I really care!

Wrote in support of the Outer Peruvian Pregnant Kangaroo Appreciation Society

I thought I’d look back, on my victories

I thought I’d look back, on my victories

Bear with me; these are hard to find…

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

I had Double-Pneumonia at the age of three,

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

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

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

Which left just poor old Dad and me,

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

I survived being thrown in the Nottingham Canal,

Clinging to a barge rope, without much hope,

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

Hauled out, was taken home, full of hope,

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

GC Young

Jane away in Italy still,

Life was for us both, a bitter pill,

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

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

Duodenal ulcer, Anne Gyna I acquired easily enough,

Got shot at work, and a new heart fitted,

Fron flat to flat, I flitted,

Got made redundant, Cancer zapped, not fritted,

Job searching failed, hopes, attritted,

My desires, faith, and plans buffetted!

GC stick

Then along came Peripheral Neuropathy ailment,

 Jane, back from Australia, accompanied me,

To and from the hospital, she was heaven sent!

Then the stroke, I was a broken bloke,

Months in care, after the stroke,

Slowly, recovery began to cloak,

Bits of the old Inchcock, showed, bespoke,

And I knew something more would wroke!

Then the diabetes was found,

And things got worserer, all around,

When Saccades-Sandra, was also found!

But, my hopes and aspirations remain,

Although I am no longer sane,

I’m ready for the challenges again…

I just wish there was a little less pain!

I fang you!

 

Coping with Old Age – Inchcock Style

Coping with Old Age – Inchcock Style

Wrote in SuPport of the fethaurus Users league

Like Corona Virus and wee-weeing, it comes to us all,

Like dizziness, madness and having many a fall,

You can’t prevent it, like a rainy squall,

It’ll come, Summer, Winter, Spring or Fall,

You might be having rumpy-pumpy, or playing beachball?

Football, tennis, baseball, trying to throw a curveball,

Or you could be summoned to the guildhall,

Nowt will stop ageing, for eternity, you may trawl,

But as I say, it doesn’t matter at all,

Ailments, disabilities, agony to recall,

Life is just a struggle and a brawl,

Unfairness, those who seem to have it all,

Money, good looks, who lives are a ball,

Even for them, live will stall,

Death is perfectly natural,

Mind you, them who live at Balmoral,

Though, lacking in some moral,

Live longer, that’s connatural,

It’s us commoner’s, with no collateral,

Who was accepting our being visceral,

But death, well, it’s gone viral,

For the underprivileged, hopes, are not transferable,

Though, commitment is not endurable,

Life is not so cheery, easy, or affable,

Things can get so bad, death is advisable,

But still, you must admit, it can be laughable!

I wish that humour was bequeathable,

And seeing the future was browsable,

Wouldn’t it nice, if death was cancellable!

Just a thought! – I had one in 1958 as well!

Inchcock’s Doze, Prompted this Little Prose

Inchcock’s Doze, Prompted this Little Prose

Old Inchie fell asleep,

His nocturnal dreaming was so deep,

He managed as least, an hour of sleep,

He woke up, a quivering mental heap!

Here are the few bits, his memory managed to keep.

I was being pursued, by a mob, so violent and profligate,

Through corridors, offices all in an abandoned state,

They fired guns at me, I wondered what is my fate?

Then came across, a securely locked gate!

“Hello,” I thought, “You’ve had yer lot, mate!”

They caught me up, one with a tattoo on his forehead,

“Death to Inchcock, He must be bled”, it said,

Other’s followed on, I was surrounded,

But it was them, that became dumbfounded!

They removed their helmets, and put spectacles on,

One said: Ayup, he’s a right odd one!

I revealed and flashed my furuncles at them,

I squeezed the biggest boil, the pus you couldn’t stem!

 The purulence peppered into their faces,

Couldn’t have done a better job, if it was faeces,

They all ran off and were gone!

But the gang may come back, so to be sure,

I thought I’ll batter my way through this door,

I used my chin to batter my way through, why, I’m not sure,

But I remember, it was bloody sore!

I got outside, I was so elated,

Success? Surely this for me isn’t’ fated?

Victory for me? I was addlepated!

Out I climbed, and fell off of the roof!

Off to the hospital, to get medicated.

To the operating theatre, I was taken,

The anaesthetist smiled as he grabbed me by the neck,

As I saw the writing on his hat

And, I thought “Oh, flipping ‘eck!

And that was the end of that!


Inchcock was under the influence of liquid codeine, morphine sulfate, several pints of Strongbow cider, a swig of Dettol, and a bottle of Domestos lemon bleach.

But his suicide effort failed, so he wrote this ditty instead.

Hahaha!

Merci Mon Amis!

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

Canadian TFZer Model

Monday 20th July 2020

Esperanto: Lundon la 21an de Julio 2020

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I went onto the WordPress Reader.

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

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

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

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

As I understood Deana:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah-well! Fare-thee well, sanity!

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

2020 Mar 12

2020 tttMar12

Thursday 12th March 2020

Hmong: Hnub Thursday 12 Lub Peb Hlis 2020

000 Mar 12

Bad, bad day!

Not the ailments to blame,

It was the brain I could not contain,

My logicality was just the same,

No one, but myself to blame!

WDP 1Lc

02:10hrs:

Horrible day,

Concentration went away,

Much graphicalisationing,

In fact, I was addicted,

The end was being predicted,

I forgot things before I remembered them,

I was coughing and bringing up phlegm,

Signs of concentration, precious few, a gem,

Thoughts of giving up, I could not stem!

WDP 1Ld

The mind in a tizzy and stew,

So bad, I rarely made a brew,

I think I might be getting the flu,

I pressed on, Dizzy Dennis making me feel blue,

The mind, all of a hullabaloo,

Shaking Shoulder Shirley was with me too,

I felt in another world, I can tell you!

WDP 1Lb

Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters failing,

I felt like sobbing and wailing,

The brain was confused, unavailing,

Life was not plain sailing,

Forever pain and ailing,

Depression was prevailing,

I could do with some wassailing,

But my hopes were failing!

Will I ever again, go abseiling?

WDP 1La

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

My shattered hopes, now beyond repair,

I’d almost finished updating this blog,

Believe me, it had been a hard slog!

After hours and hours, I felt all agog,

Computerising, I got the shakes,

I lost this diary, ‘For Gawd’s Sake!’

Demoralised, hit by an emotional earthquake,

How much more, can I take?

WDP 13eR

Help!

Befuddling Thoughts in bad poetry, from Inchcock! Part of the Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe series

6Sat05

WDP 2019B01

I had a thought, the other day,

It would not go away,

But here I am to write it down today,

Huh! I’ve forgotten what it was, Oh, lackaday!

———————————————————————

WDP 003f

I was caught laughing on Monday morning,

The Doctor was worried,

To the psychiatrist, I was hurried,

Now I’m no longer able-bodied,

I believe insanity is dawning!

I’ll have parsnip soup tonight, curried!

———————————————————————

WDP 003k

I worry a lot nowadays,

Through my mind’s confused haze,

Why am I not confident, there’s a trail to blaze?

I’m old, decrepit and stuck in my ways,

 Life’s a pain, it’s been wretched in recent days,

Freeing yourself of worrying can be done; the Doctor says

Watch an old DVD of Dawson’s ‘Say’s Les’,

Act like Tommy Cooper, and wear a fez,

I worry a lot nowadays!

———————————————————————

WDP 01 right

Doing the ablutions is not an easy task!

I’ll cut myself daily having a shave,

To ease the pain, I take my hip-flask,

Whoopsiedangleplops committed,

Dizzy Dennis calls, and blood is flittered,

Shaking Shaun, makes me feel all forlorn,

The dropsies fall, sometimes landing on my corn,

Then I droppeth the showerhead,

Though sometimes, the Sock-Glide instead,

The Sock-Glide removes chunks from my finger,

But in the shower, I become a singer,

An older Elvis, I’m a dead-ringer,

Apart from being short and having no hair,

And I can’t sing, to be fair,

Life can be so cruel and unfair, so there!

But there’s help out there somewhere,

I just don’t know where. But do I care?

———————————————————————

WDP 09aR

Nowadays, and I think it’s a real pity,

Life’s full of astucity, atrocity and a definite caducity,

It’s still easy enough, for me to be friendly and witty,

But sadly, only through a silly internet ditty,

Doing hoovering, hand-washing and other domesticity,

Brings pain, agony in all its ferocity,

Arthur Itis, Anne Gyna, neurotmesis axonotmesisity,

Duodenal Donald, Reflux Roger, with their tenacity,

All combine, to stop the housework,

Someone call saying; ‘Look at this filthy dust. You idle burke!’

———————————————————————

GCPram

But life’s always been depressing,

It started when I was born you know,

Worries were soon rampant, though,

But I had my health,

  Even if, no wealth,

Britain had its Commonwealth,

I got through using cunning and stealth!


This post was formulated while Inchcock was waiting in the Mary Potter Treatment Centre for his ankle-ulcer, and bruised thigh from his falling off of the L9 bus to be treated. During which he had his Peripheral Neuropathy diagnosed.

Just thought I’d mention it, like.

Part of: The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe Series