Inchcock Today: Short Diary & an Ode

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SATURDAY 23rd JULY 2022

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I rose, mentally weary and physically so tired. Sweet Morpheus has been unkind to me for a few days. Not much sleep at all.

I pottered about, starting many things and drifting merrily off to such others. Not many saw completion or fruition.
I found some photos that were supposed to have gone on yesterday’s blog. Last night’s meal. A veggie dinner and veggie ice cream, not that the brain was clear enough, but I think it was nice and tasty. I gave the memory an 8/10 score. Apart from the beetroot, which tested my loose teeth. Which reminded me, I must remember the Dentist’s visit on Monday!
arrived and sorted out the medications. I noticed when I opened the new bag that some of the same medicines had shorter-dated packs at the bottom of the drawer. Of course, there were only a few that I could read the date on, thanks to the Cataracts. The carer soon got me sorted. Didn’t want any drinkies or nibbles and left leaving the waste bags in the hallway. I didn’t think to ask her to take them; a new gal is not up with the system yet. Nervous and weary, but nice enough, bless her.
It was a bit colder this morning, a lot, in fact.
I took some photographicalisations from the kitchen window.
Then went on the computer – that was it; I spent around eight hours doing odeing and never got around to starting this actual blog!

Had a shower, shave and a sh… well, we’ll leave that bit. Not that it was a bit. A Constipation Konrad controlled session. Firm, painful and in the end, a little bloody, Harold’s Haemorrhoids suffered.

Then realised I’d not done the Health Checks yet. So I did!


Yet again, an overall lower than ever before result! Phenomenal

I started on an Ode for the top of this blog. And it took me hours to get done. Mind-Blanks! Kungleturds! My efforts were accompanied by Herbert’s mechanical and metal cacophony concert.

Nearly tea time now. It won’t be long until the evening carer is due. What happened to the time?

Mind you, every wee-wee was followed by  , and Little Inchies a few times, which cost me a lot of lost time. I’m still tired, is slowing me down now. I’m struggling with using CorelDraw. The keyboard keys blend into each other. Grollocks!

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My daily walk through the tree copse mattered…
If I tried it nowadays, I’d be devoured…
By various ailments pains, again and again…

Can’t get up the hill or down in the subterranean…
Would it help me if I took some cocaine?
Or a few more Codeines for the pain?
I’d likely end up an addicted crackbrain?
Better not think of doing this then…
Should I be eating bread that’s multigrain?
I hope the cataract is done soon, my vision to regain…
Oh, dearie me, I need the Throne made of Porcelain…

Bloody Constipation Conrad; he’s barbaric!
I lost blood from the piles, trapped something in the seat of plastic!
The rock-hard evacuation nearly sent me ballistic!.
Sorry, I mustn’t be so melodramatic…
Little Inchies fungal lesion bled; it’s only miniaturistic,
It’s no use me being all nostalgic,
Or far-seeing and nostradamic,
And I’m not getting into a tizwas or panic…
Even with all my ailments, and now I’m osteoarthritic…
I intend to learn how to be optimistic,

Being depressed has been making me feel sick,
As do people who call me a prick…
For having such a tiny man-dick…
Bullies, gangs, fiddling MPs, Doctors charlatanic…
I find these scumbags are lowlife, oxymoronic,
They concern, bother me, even if I’m thanatognomonic,
Dementia Doreen, toys with all things mnemic…
Dates, appointments, names, days… it could be hilaric…
But with me, there are other things to make me feel despotic,
Peed off, humiliated, and depressogenic…
I’ve forgotten what they are; because I’m a schmendrick!

Yet I used to be known as being hyperdynamic,
I’m so fat naturally; I’m not bulimic,
I don’t see the end of mankind as cataclysmic…
If there is a God, our actions must have made him sick…
If St Peter wants to send me back to earth again… Horrific!
One failure is enough for me; that would be so dramatic.
Unless he assures me this time, my man-worm will be pythonic!
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Turned the Computer off and thoughts of food developed. But there are not many choices fresh-wise, and I’m too tired and shaking to bother too much.

I decided first to take some close-up photos of the ankle and feet. Here they are on the left here. The left foot is getting worse, but the right one with the ulcer is far easier and better looking tonight.

The left toes and foot had lost a lot of fluid. The right one was still retaining a lot of water. Walking remains more like hobbling and a smidge risky when the PN wobbles and shakes come on while getting around the flat.

Ah, off to the wet room. A tough evacuation that almost brought tears to my eyes. Washed up, and I medicated poor old Harold’s Haemorrhoids.
Then back to pondering on what to have to eat. Well, I was not interested in cooking, and the tiredness decided me to have a quick snack. A pot of pot noodles, with extra seasonings, added. Liquid smoke and BBQ sauce. A pot of instant potato with liquid salt, soya bacon pieces and more BBQ sauce. A few sad-looking slices of dry bread to dip into the noodles and wrap up some of the potatoes to make a sarnie out of.
The picture looks terribly sparse, unappetising, a pathetic meal. That is because it was all these things!
Yet… maybe because of Sweet Morpheus’s determination that I will not get any sleep, combined with his success in doing this, I enjoyed the nosh. I think a Taste-Rating of 6.5/10 would not be over-gracious?
Even though I fell asleep eating it! Woke and finished it off and drifted into the land of nod again. I think it must have been a deep one, cause I reckon I was dreaming I was sleeping… and great joy was floating in my mind, peaceful…
♫Oh, Susana♫ burst out from the door chime box six foot away in front of me. It jerked me awake, and Valerie came into the room, and instantly the tiredness hit me again. I’d only been sleeping for five minutes! I was hoping to stay in the recliner while Valerie gave me the medications, then I could nod off again when the gal had finished, but no!
Valerie needed some medications, and I got up and hobbled into the kitchenette to get her some from the medicine drawer.

Valerie gave me the doses, and I had a little natter with her. She pointed out that my Stuttering-Stephanie habit was a lot worse tonight. I’d not noticed? Why I wondered? And stayed not knowing!) I can’t remember if I offered her any nibbles or not? I hope I did. I think I stayed in the chair as she left after I thanked her.
But there was no sleeping early tonight for me. I soon realised I’d not locked the door. So, what with the memory of the yobboes coming in at two in the morning still fresh in my mind, I had to get up and go to lock the door – Not a hard task, really…
However, stubbing my toe on the way back against the clothes airer ensured a minor curse word was emitted, thus, cocking up any chance of getting to sleep early!

After an hour or so, I gave up and put a DVD on. Humph!

Inchcock’s Thought Storms

Introduction

His odes, in many ways, are like a zit…

An unwanted ailment, you have to squash it…

Full of pus, staph bacteria, that hurts a bit,

Lost words, replaced with whatchamacallits,

Rhyming is so bad that it can ruin friendships,

Dementia Doreen causing so many errors and blips,

Inchy’s not educated, so he struggles at penmanship…

Now lost his logicality, of which he once had a firm grip!

He dreams of his brain being men mended, maybe, reequipped.

Mental power, dreams, and memory have to the ether slipped…

He tries to battle against Doreen, for long he has schlepped…

But is losing the battle; thus, he is about ready for his crypt.

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His odes, in many ways, are like a zit; yes, I meant zit,

An unwanted ailment, you have to squash it…

Full of pus, staph bacteria, that hurts a bit,

Lost words, replaced with whatchamacallits,

Rhyming is so bad that it can ruin friendships,

Dementia Doreen causing so many errors and blips,

He’s not educated, so he struggles at penmanship…

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

Now lost his logicality, of which he once had a firm grip!

He dreams of his brain being men mended, maybe, reequipped.

Mental power, dreams, and memory have into the ether slipped…

He tries to battle against Doreen, for long he has schlepped…

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

But is losing the battle, thus ready for his crypt

But the business went bust,

And I started to lust…

For a gal with a big bust…

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I’m prepared, but not too keen, on my upcoming sepulchre,

To be honest, I don’t see it fits into human culture…

Well, I used to be sociable, in fact, I was a campanologer,

Waking folks up Sunday morning… was my main pleasure,

Which I took my time with because it was a pleasure!

 The locals warned me off, bellringing, with a fervour,

So, to avoid a pasting, my bell rang no more…

Anyway, it hurt my arms, then I got a shoulder fracture…

So, I bought a barrow, and became a costermonger,

Giving me so much time watching the sky and pareidolia!?

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Mood Update:

While struggling to get the preceding crap ode done, I got increasingly confused. I may have just posted bits of a Snippet ode wot I did in between today’s efforts. I have to write this stuff on Word, and then I get a spell checker. Then cut and paste into Blogger, where the colour and font size usually changes, and I have to go through it all again, ever correcting! I got a little depressed with things, life etc… I gave up and transferred it to WordPress. It’s a true-life farcicalness with Doreen Dementia!

However, I had a bit of good fortune in taking a tumble while making a brew of Thompson Punjana tea. Cracking my left knee on a cabinet corner as I went down. Everything seemed to change then, outlook and contentment-wise.

 I suddenly gleaned a previously unthought series of thoughts:

Why am I worrying? The end is nigh, and whatever I do, the Doctor will not accept Doreen Dementia’s existence, so there is no chance in hell of getting any help. ‘Fact!’

As much as I miss my daily hobbles, walking to the shops, and in the tree copse. I no longer have the ability to take them. ‘Fact’ You’ll just have to accept the inevitable, Chambers!

Walking into things may get less after I’ve had the eyes done. No point in fretting over it, the right eye cataract will take time to work, but there is a good chance I will again be able to do crosswords (not that I was any good at them, Hehe!), Not fret over the other eye being done afterwards. It’ll take a long time ‘Fact’.

Should I snuff it before they are done well? Would it matter? Apart from an unknown to me, a battle to get at my valuables from sudden relatives who care… I shall not be around to see it, and I can’t take them with me, (Or, can I?). So, good luck to them. ‘Fact!’

I tried thinking about happier times… that was not easy. Hehe! But Suzanne Jean Percival came to mind first and foremost, and they really were genuine happy memories. ‘Fact!’

That made me feel worse when I realised my current position… So quiet here today, even the noisy standoffish, antisocial, smarmy, reticent, toploftical git in the flat above was not making any noise! Loneliness is something that rarely affects me, but it did then. No one visiting. No phone calls, text messages… a sense of isolation. ‘Fact!’

After I’d cleared up the mess in the kitchen and Phorpain gelled the knee, I made another brew, of Glengettie tea this time, the mood rose… without any reason, nothing had changed, yet suddenly I was ashamed of myself – and self-loathing at my pathetic self-pitying took over.‘ Fact!’

There are so many others in a worse state than I am. Somehow, although it didn’t cheer me up, my acceptance of things grew. 

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So I got on with this blog’s making.

Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

LATE THOUGHT-STORMS!

As a young man, I thought I was a brainiac…
But that was sixty-odd years ago, way back,
I’ve been through periods of wine and Prozac,
Lived in a tent, then moved up to a wooden shack…
Cost of livings to high got to cut back!

I used to believe in Old Moore’s Almanac!
Bought a Robin Reliant, but I wanted a Cadillac…
That had to go because I got the sack,
Others had briefcases, me? A haversack!
I’ve never won the lottery, Monopoly, or blackjack…
Amazon, Facebook, eBay my computer track,
Maybe it’s because I’m a senile maniac?

TTFNski!

Local News Snippets – Part 23⅞ths

Will justice ever be seen again?

Will murderers ever are executed, slain,
Although hanging is looked upon with disdain,
Are all MPs against it? I can’t ascertain…
Convicted to life in prison, they should remain,
In prison, it’s easy for them to get cocaine!
Many have broken out again and again!
The injustice of the legal system drives me insane,
Execution will never return; is it concrete, certain…
Then again, in a few years, although by then inane…
People will realise life on earth we cannot sustain!
Too many people to feed will cause our destruction,

We have to urgently reduce the world’s population,
3 million murders a day, and we lock them away,
Feed them, medicate them… well, this is no way…
I suggest we use the skills of our local electrician,
To electrocute murderers or try decapitation?
Get rid of the scumbags that infest our Nation,
And remove their breeding stick; that’ll do the trick!

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Local News Snippets – Part 23⅞ths

We’ll start off with a report on the Covid pox,
I imagine there’ll be more soon on the monkeypox…
Or maybe one on the return of chickenpox?
But first, we’ve Covid yet, outfox,
First, I’ve got to get my head around Firefox,
Then when time, I’ve got Germoloid my buttocks,
While Nottingham scum work out the new car locks,
I must order some new diabetic kneesocks…
Then get through the day full of shocks and shlocks,
I’m waffling again; sorry if I got you in a flummox!

Released on bail, it makes me wail…
So he can get more drugs and ale?
Didn’t know what it was, his conditional bale…
Tell him not to drive? That’s a fairytale…
Not to get drunk, on spirits or impale a female?
He mustn’t run away to Wensleydale?
I’m guessing, him responding to his bale? A dwale!

Blimey, reminds me of my mother. Regretfully!

Yet another one does a runner!
Parole boards’ reputation gets murkier!
Deterrents for crime get flimsier,
Scumballs are getting treated kindlier?
Escapees are getting more regular…
None-returnees are getting cunninger…
And I’m definitely getting portlier!
That’s nowt to do with escaper…
Who’s a  naughty boy and a fibber!

One thought appeals. Best not say!

Despite my total lack of winning anything gambling-wise, for about 62-years now – I anticipate and expect a win of some sort shortly. Surely?

See his sneer? He’s got no fear…
He may well like it up the rear,
Will he settle in the nick? Or disappear?
Things happen, and he may even get leerier?
I’d sooner he dies slowly, contracts malaria,
He can be educated on how to be friendlier…
Be good if another prisoner went for his jugular!

Learn summat new every day!

Gorrum!

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Proletariats from all around the land, Bless them…
Cheltenham, Birmingham, Nottingham or West Ham,
Wherever; realise that MPs & the law are a sham…
Anytime now, expects riots with a wham!

Inchcock Today: Ode & Diary – Saturday 15 May 2022

Approached creating this ode quite guiltily…
My ideas for it were whimsical, bonkers, delusionary…
I pressed on all the same, but involuntarily…
For Alto-Inchy was taking the piss at me,
If it comes out passable, I’ll have to be lucky…
So, I hope to avoid getting any vilipendency!
Will it get boos? Or be received gladly?
Here I go… I’ll have to wait and see…

Last night’s Porcelain Throne visit showed sanguinolency,
I had to clean things quickly, with no time to dilly-dally.
Cleaned, medicated the fungal lesion, piles, cuts, that’s three…
Pain, medicating the lesion send me cranky,
And Harold’s Haemorrhoids too, it took me a while,
Good job that I’ve got many a mans-nappie!

It’s Alto Inchie writing this verse; Inchcock did insist!
But, things got nasty for Inchy, the lyricist…
Stubbed his toe and started to update his word list…
He spent many hours on it, needed a wee, but had to desist…
Went to hit the save icon, and I missed…
Lost the file, and he sank to his saddest…
He almost cried; it must have been hard to resist…
Then he sank further and got depressed!

I lost six hours trying to get back my lost writing…
Couldn’t find it; I was confused, lost and dithering,
My previous determination started withering…
Duodenal Donald kicked off; it was appalling,
The whole incident was depressing and galling!
I believe that I was so low, beyond consoling…
I wondered, what’s the next thing that’ll need bungling?

Alto Again: It was sad to see Inchy being nigglier,
His computer works are getting much messier…
He didn’t look well. He seemed to me pastier…
The outlook for him to finish this ode is murkier,
And even he’s not usually a shirker, but a worker…
I can see in his eyes that he’s getting lower…
No point in talking to him until he feels betterer,
Hello, his door chimes rang out, in came a Carer…
He turned sourly around to see who it was, looking peakier,
His face lit up, his smile radiated, for it was Carer Sarah!
I could tell that he’d immediately got feeling friskier!

It was Carer Sarah who came to do me today,
This cheered me up, I have to say…
I lost all signs of acting acidulously…
Lovely gal, pretty and chatty,
I began to feel once again, altruistically,
I hope she comes again on Sunday!

Alto: Inchie knackered his computer and got in a shaking panic,
The idiot’s actions and bungled repairs were catastrophic,
He had trouble concentrating and was mnemic…
His moods all day were somewhat chameleonic.
Inchcock’s plans and thoughts were all semantic…
Yet he seemed to be taking it all phlegmatic…
In fact, he ended up feeling somewhat apathetic?
Then he found his legs had gone all phlebitic!
This is why some folks, quite rightly, consider him pilgarlic!.

Diary Saturday 14th May 2022

05:00hrs: I woke up with my bum half off of the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, nauseously beige-coloured, not-working, rusty, rickety, difficile, crumb-covered tatty recliner. The right leg on the floor, the left one on the arm of the recliner? A position that I could not physically get into on my own, even if someone offered me a million pounds to do it? Painfully I got my bum back up on the cushion, then tackled the left leg retrieval task! Have you seen that programme on the telly Truck Hell, where they have to retrieve HGVs after a crash? That’s like the task I had on.

I got it freed and the foot down on terra firma. Hehehe! It took me half an hour to achieve it.

Then, I noticed the right leg only had suffered a vein explosion. The first photo is of the front of the leg. I had a good look at it. There were no pains from the veins. Then I wondered about the back of the right leg. Got the Canon camera again and took a blind picture.

Aha, more veins showing through? On a closer look at the photograph, later on, it looked to me that last time, the surgeon who did them had left his name tattooed on the leg? Hehe! I’ll put this one on more prominent than usual to see what you think. It’s on the top right of the picture. Wonder what it is?

Ah, well, better get up; the Carer may be calling soon… and…

As I stood up to catch my balance, I knocked the camera off of the ottoman. I went into the bathroom to ready things for the ablutioning later on, and took this snap of the new marks on the face, this time! Then tried to take another snapshot of the morning view, but the camera didn’t have it. Sob!

It seemed to take the photo, but nothing was getting put on the SD card to view, other than this one and the legs? Miffed off, now! Another blog without many pictures, Humph!

I made up some waste bags, mashed a brew and got on the computer. And the morning carer appeared without ringing the buzzer and made me jump. Haha! Carer Sara was a pretty young thing, and she was sociable. ♥

On with the blog. I finished the update two hours later and posted it on Facebook. Went on Facebooking. Then the WP Reader, and comment reading and replying to.

The usual for the weekend. An increase in Herbert’s noise level. On and off all day, at times, I thought he must have hurt himself with the clanging and banging. At times, I could hurt him myself!

Got on with the Ode template for Saturday’s blog. But a disaster befell me…

I used two pages of saved words on Notepad and got on with selected suitable or better options. And the Peripheral Pete’s Neurotransmitters failed, as Shuddering Shoulder Shirley kicked in simultaneously. There was controlling my movements at all.

The arm shot across the keyboard with the left clicker pressed firmly down, hitting various keys as it went to my left, knocked the SD reader flying as the connector broke off, and it was all over in seconds, but it did a lot of damage, and worst of all, I lost all my words in the two files!

I then spent the following hours of the day trying to understand what the warning messages that came up meant and trying everything within my limited knowledge to find the missing files. No such luck! Photos not going on again.

Made a large meal and ate it all. Wee-wee. Carer Valerie called. Head down, but foolishly tried to watch a Dirty Harry film on the box… I did, in a way, but in about 25 episodes, I watched one each time I woke up and nodded off again!

Cheers!

Inchcocks Local News Snippets – Issue 31⅕th

Issue 31⅕th

I’m pleased to be able to report,
This issue has less violence of a sort,
Minor stuff, no murders, that’s a comfort,
Cause I may find one later, to import…
There’s no need to feel distraught,
There’ll soon be more, for me to flaunt!

Here we go…

Mental Health Act, I worry about it a bit…
Many members of my family have known it…
Malcolm, and others, they have seen fit…
Locked up, losing their citizenship…
One chap, they even gave him the snip?
He hurt no one, ever, but he still got zapped?
Now my family have gone off to the crypt!

Yet none of them had committed rape or murder,
If the mentally ill are considered a danger…
Could we not have discovered this much earlier?
Stop waging war, spend money wiser…
I’m getting confused, I’m not a scaremonger…
Drug gangs, Putin, murderers, muggers and pillagers,
Greed for cash… to show off and swagger!

Nor am I in my right mind, due to Doreen’s Dementia,
I’ve not led a life, with very much adventure…
But the mentally ill can be more of a danger…
Cause we rarely find out, before they become a killer!
That they have a problem, but a lawyer is a great deluder…
Claiming mental problems, voices hear, trickery here!

As with the parole board, that frees many a murderer,
To kill again… can justice really be absurderer?
So many innocents, now laying in their sepulture…
Because of the legal system, and its pathetic nomenclature!

Life imprisonment, they get out in ten?
This is not rare, it’s happened so often…
Judges pretending that the case is disproven…
Like backhander taking referees, the Government to please,
Keep the scum out of prison, the cost does displease…
It’s cheaper to make them into parolees…
So they can murder again, and with such f’ing ease!

Fair enough, put her in hospital, to play with frisbees,
She can be assessed regularly, by overpaid committees?
She’s better now, all the parole board might agree…
They may say no, either way, it doesn’t bother their fees!
Will mental murders ever start to decrease…
Is the legal system bothered at all? That’s the wheeze!
I’m sure we could find a way to help earlier, Please!
Before we have yet another innocent, deceased!

Humankind, seem to be losing the ability for conferring…
As well as bantering, bartering, and also, discussing…
Although some other qualities, they are practising,
Like moaning, complaining, thumping, mugging…
Battering, stabbing, lying, cheating, conning…
Grovelling, drinking, drugging, belching, killing…
Bedevilling, befuddling, begalling, belittling…
Caterwauling, shoplifting, fiddling, crime and spitting,
They have taken to with eagerness, and willingness.

This violence is getting a little close to home mate!
Like Putin, who validates it’s okay to annihilate!
Drink, drugs and sex, can easily overstimulate,
They put men on the moon, dead cells rejuvenate…
Shame the proletariats’ brains won’t recalibrate!
Mistakes my those in power, they just replicate…
Knowing their failings are worse than Watergate!

Oh, yes?

Even closer to my Woodthorpe Court, great!
Burglaries, break-ins, what a spate…
I think I’ll hibernate and vegetate?
Till Jesus returns, not long to wait!

Conditional bail? Sounds dodgy, to me?
What are the conditions? What do they be?
Why have they let this animal roam free?
Justice is farcical, in this country!

I’ll try to follow this one!

Local Postcode Crimes v National

The NG5 4DZ Crime Map. Been busy ain’t they?

A scumball like that does not deserve a lawyer for free! At least he got a prat of a lawyer, who could only tell the judge that he’d been a good boy, in mitigation. With his record, how he got off so lightly just proves my saying that the law is an ass!

This Below is really sad… Heartbreaking!

Everyone is a loser!

RIP Ray Dixon

ROGUES GALLERY

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Inchcock Today: Diary with Odes

I’d like to start with my family, friends and flatmates here at Woodthorpe Court, in Sherwood, Nottingham

Roger Rabbit, waving to Lisa & Bill ♥

Their Mother & Father are my cyber-buddies, HRH Lisa, Billum and Alan, of Fort Thomas in the US of A. Lovely Gift; A smashing clan who sent them to me out of the blue, and I have a natter with them every morning! I made a family portrait this morning…


Inchcock Today

Whoops I woke up with a whopping great jump and jerk. It was of such magnitude it moved my body mass a few inches towards the edge of the second-hand, £300, c1968, overwhelmingly-sickeningly beige coloured, tatty, uncomfortable, wobbly-recliner. A few more inches would have had me on the carpet, cursing and nursing Harold’s Haemorrhoids! Hehehe!

Of course, that was the end of any sleeping, so I lay a few seconds to work out what day and time it was and any actions or activities required… But here was the watch? No longer on my wrist?

I soon found out what I’d done with it – fourteen hours later, I found it on the floor, behind the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, nauseously beige-coloured, not-working, rusty, rickety, difficile, crumb-covered tatty recliner.

During the ablutionalisationing, I realised I had not got my watch on. “Ah, well,” I thought, “It’ll be on the ottoman!” Finished off and made a brew of Glengettie. But…

Refilling the kettle, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley kicked off. Talk about bad timing! Harrumph! The water went all over the previously washed and dried cutlery and crockery, down the front cabinet of the sink and down my trousers, socks and slippers, and onto the kitchen floor…

It took me ages to get it sorted and dressed again. I seem to be doing this a lot more often lately. Dementia Doreen? SSS? Peripheral Pete? Cataract Kathleen? Haha! Who knows which will get the blame.

Made a fresh mug of tea and got on the computer, rather pleased to be making an early start on the blog. Ha!

I had to do other jobs and kept nipping back to see if Liberty-Global, the company with a Revenue of: 12.98 billion USD (2021), who bought out Virgin Media Internet, are even worse than the scumball BT internet was… Not that Herr Fries is bothered. Don’t I pick them!

Did the health checks, and the internet was back on. But to for long, ten minutes maybe…

Pee’d off with this already! The Iceland delivery arrived. They had substitutes plain sausages again for the unavailable microwave ones! That’s the fourth time this year, I’ve sent them back each time, but they keep subbing them.

The strawberries and tomatoes were from Morocco. The strawberries had some slime on a few, which I threw away. The mini-cherry tomatoes were substituted for vine ones and tested for taste… Bloody Hell! I’ve tasted a tomato so foul and bitter in my life! Eurgh! They hadn’t any brown cobs in stock either! All in all, a bad do! I put the crap away.

Tried the computer again. It had come back on at last. For around a half-hour, then…

Well, obviously not that much… Git!

My morning Carer called and sorted me out. It was her first call. She came in without ringing the door chime and gave me a nervous tick! Even if she shouts out when she walks in, I can’t hear her with my hearing. Still, I wasn’t using the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket) when she came in. Hehehe!

Aha! The internet came back on… Thank you, Mr Fries. Got the post finished and sent off. Facebooking, and it happened again:

Liberty-Global has disassociated itself with Virgin Media; they do not mention that they own and fail to run it, hoping that Richard Branson will get the blame, I think?

One more effort once it came back on. Most anger-making and revenge prompting! But this time, I had to close everything down and off and reboot the box and computer.

I’ll have to give up on this; Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet has gone off again! My language is crude at the moment. I am willing and wishing that Fries drops dead immediately. It won’t matter to me cause he can’t run the service anyway. He’s a number-cruncher, accountant, actuary, bean-counter, bookkeeper, calculator, con-man. His use of smoke and mirrors, off-shore account movements etc., are his strengths. A wanker of a banker! Indeed, he has no people-care or customer sensitivity.

I’ve lost all my heart in blogging now. I’ll get something to eat, give up until morning, and then try again to use LIBERTY-GLOBAL Virgin Media Internet. But I’m not confident… well, I am in a way – I feel sure that Fries will let things get worse… there’ll be a financial fiddle of some sort involved in the situation, I’m sure. But he is obviously trying to destroy a company, his company, that paid around $2.4 billion to buy out… why? Back-handers? Mafia? Money Shuffling & Juggling? Banking fiddle? You scratch mine – I’ll scratch yours?

Bribery and manipulation? Or just money-making savviness via greedy, devious, underhand means? Just a thought! Why is he shoving all the much-travelled money of Liberty-Global into telecom and internet companies the world over? When he obviously is incapable of providing a reliable service? A money-predatory and manipulative Con-Man supreme!

Today’s end car park inspection photograph.

Carer Valerie arrived. Just after I’d realised that I had no hot water from the taps (faucets). She was kind enough to find and write ht telephone number of the Nottingham City Homes Repairs in large letters so I could read it. I was a little nervous to ring yet if I had made a cock-up leaving a tap running or something. (The hot water was back on in the morning, Phew!) Off went Valerie taking the bags o the waste for me on her way. Thank you!

Herbert was giving it some hammer tonight; I wonder what he’s making this time. I found a picture that I’d taken last week, possibly from Thursday when I visited the foot lady at the hair salon appointment farce.

Washed and changed into the night attire, and I made up a bottle of spring water and lime juice. I did a couple for Carer Richard, who may come on Monday, and stored them in the fridge, so they will be nice and cold for him.

Hot much of a sunset again tonight, but still beautiful to me, even with the muted hue and colours.

I used the Canon camera. As for some reason, the Fuji developed a thick white line down the centre of the screen, and I could not remove it? Turned it off and then back on, but no luck; still there?

As I got down on the recliner to watch some TV, I took this snap of my legs. Not a pretty sight!

The fattiness in both legs was returning, or it might be water-retention, but I think not. I wish I knew why I felt that, but I cannot remember why now, Tsk! (Sunday morning)

Cartilage Cathy on the right and Arthur Itis on the left knee, can you see? The veins are shallower tonight, and the hairs have suddenly turned grey? The funny side of this shot was the feet not showing. Hahaha!

An Ode to an ‘Orrible Day

My signing with Virgin Media was happenstantial,
The computer… to be precise, Liberty-Global,
Ran by Mike Fries, money-mad and ignoble!
Who bought out Virgin Media, most controversial,
Liberty-Global is crap; blame is cunningly deflectable…
They keep shtum about owning Virgin Media – detestable!
So Richard Branson gets the blame, a sort of Guilt-Burial!
My hatred for Mike Fries is substantial…
Well, his hatred of customers is evidential…
His lousy internet seems to him inconsequential,
He still gets paid a fortune, and management are reverential?
The sickening signs of fiddling figures are torrential!
Although my evidence is only circumstantial…
And comes from a customer who is uninfluential,
Liberty-Global’s ever failing service makes me demential!

Morning all!

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!

Inchcock Today: Mind-Wandering…

This Mornings View from the Kitchenette Window

FRIDAY 18th FEBRUARY 2022

03:00hrs I woke up and got up, out of habit…
The Thought Storms did not rabbit?
The reluctant brain remained asleep; Dagnabit
My plans ideas were vague, not implicit…
The memory did not want to work or cohabit…
Vascular-Dementia-Doreen, undoubtedly the culprit!
For about an hour, my thoughts were incipit…
Eventually, I got semi-mind-control, well, a little bit,
But confidence and hopes, the brain did prohibit!

I’d had a better nights sleep, six hours with only three jump-awakes. Mind you, it was still early, but the meandering mind had me out of the recliner, catching my balance, no wee-weeing, no making a brew of Glengettie; straight (well, in a wobbly line) to the kitchenette, and started cleaning the fridge?

I was not fully aware of what I was doing until I dropped a warm-wet cloth onto my foot. This is no bull! And it dawned on me what a good job I’d done of cleaning things up? So much so that I took photographs of my handiwork! How I’d done all the stretching and bending, and without any pains as far as I could tell, baffled me, somewhat.

Am I losing my grip quicker than I’d hoped? Not only was the fridge looking really clean and tidy, spick and span, but I also had no aches and pains, and apart from the one drop of the cloth, I spilt or broke nothing either? Yet another puzzle is how I got all this work done in such a short time? Efficiently too, as far as I could tell.

Or had I? How do I know that I did it at all? How can I not remember doing it all? Why can I recall taking out the door trays and washing them in the sink, quite clearly, but little else until the wet rag fell on my foot? Another Blank-Spell methinks… or do I? Why am I seemingly so willing to share and relate these rather odd things on the web? Dementia-Doreen again? Or mayhaps a call for help.

Even more surprising, why am I, after apparently coming out of the fog, feeling so good about things? Hey-Ho, Doreen again?

I had a reluctant wee-wee, washed, and got the laundry bag assembled for collection by the Carer later on. Then off to make a brew of tea, Thompsons Punjana this time. Although dour-looking, the view from the window made me take two shots of it and stick them together (Top of the page).

I pressed on updating yesterday’s blog with the most unexpected enthusiasm; I got it finished and posted off to WordPress. Did the WordPress comments, Emails (lovely one from HRH Lisa). Then I went on the WP Reader.

05:30hrs: And Herbert above started banging, clanging and tap-tapping again. He continued for several hours on and off; it sounded like he kept dropping something metal on the floor? I hope he hurts himself… I mean, he doesn’t hurt himself. ☠

♫ Oh, Susana’s ♫ tune rang out. In came Carer Cassie. Now, this may be hard for you to understand, but I had to ask her her name again this morning. The gal took it all in her stride, so I assume many others in these flats are affected by the dreaded Vascular-Dementia-Doreen, and cannot remember the Carers names the same as me? Hehehe! Cassie soon got the medicationings done, collected the laundry bag, and off she trotted, with a thank you nibble and drinkie-poo.

Wet room

Ablutioning Time!

What a session that was! Mucho-super good, but listening to the Storm Update on the radio was a smidge alarming. For more than one reason. In the first place… ① No, I say zilch cuts when shaving! ② No teeth bleeding. ③ Not a single toe stubbing! ④ No banging into or knocking anything over! ⑤ No leaving taps running!

Storm Warning: Will reach Nottingham this afternoon, ETA 15:00hrs. Parks are closing cause of the danger of trees etc., being blown over. Building structural damage, roofs, etc. at high risk, possibly endangering life. And that’s just for Nottingham, where they anticipate we will be far less affected? All calm but cols out there at the moment, though.

The mark where I knocked over the knife block is clearing up well; it never hurt anyway. Showering went smoothly, too!

I dried off medicated what needed attention. The legs seem to be putting on some weight, higher up? Not surprising, really, I can’t get out and about much nowadays. Spit!

I even got the socks on without the dangerous nerve-wrangling assistance of the green wired Sock Glide Glenda!. This was the only part of the ablutionalisationing session that caused me any real pain. Even then, it was far less than usual. What’s going on today? The mind is confused; the body refuses to feel pain… I hope I’ve not died and nobody has told me? Hahaha!

Even getting the PP’s (Protection Pants) on, there were no tumbles or loss of balance that mattered?

The mini-scar where I hit my head attacking the power box in the shower three days ago is scabbing up well.

Freshened up with the Brute spray, and got the alarm wristlet back on, watch, and alert wristbands.

Ah, I thought things were going too well… well, they were! Putting the Warfarin Alert band on my wrist, it snapped and shot up, knocking of my spectacles! Luckily the frames and lens were not damaged (I hope). Not that the glasses are worth much now the Cataracts Katie, Glaucoma Gloria, and Saccades Sandra are all affecting my sight.

The Blood Pressure readings were okay. The temperature was even lower today, I tried it again later, and it was up to 24.5°c. So okay there now.

Back on the blogging, and Sister Jane rang on the landline. She was very concerned and worried… Oh, yes! She wanted to know if I’d still got the bottles of wine for her and Pete safely stored away… Hehehe!

We had a natter, but the line was terrible, made worse by our Jane having throat trouble, poor little croaker. She’s off to the doctor later; I hope she’ll be okay.

I did some more work on the blog, then decided to try the J Sainsbury site to see if they were going to deliver the Great Scot dried vegetables that Jane wanted. I’ve ordered them four times without any luck. Humph!

I tried to get through to Sainsbury’s and Ocado to see if they had any Great Scots in stock. Sainsbury’s off-line again! Ocado has removed them from the listings. Sorry, Jane!

Faded fast. Made a nosh of sorts.

Carer arrived without the laundry. She returned with it, crammed in the bag, no freshener or crystals used. Clothes not folded, and all wrinkled. Not happy with this at all.

Kip.

Wednesdays Sunset – Bootiful!

Sherwood’s Sunset, daunting, yet so picturesque,
Almost like it was designed by an artist…
With the aid of an abstractionist?
Believe me, viewing it, I heard a clarinettist…
Playing Stranger on the Shore, perfectionist!

The scenes almost spoke to me,
My worries were replaced, temporarily,
I began to think, rather melancholily…
When I snuff it, I’ll miss these sunsets, sadly!

For all my worries and ailments, I feel lucky…
Though I may be writing circumlocutorily…
In bad odeing too, but that comes naturally,
It brings on a desire to be conciliatory!
And admiration seems so obligatory!.

At this moment of photographing…
I don’t want to visit Beijing,
Go skiing or backpacking…
Have sex, or go mountain scaling,
I made a spot of decision-making…
Enjoy nature; I find it so enthralling!.

Hello, the cold rains started drizzling,
The winds are getting up, more nature enabling?
This means other worries are expelling…
The thought of getting back to normality is dismaying!

Back to the day to day stuff means disentangling,
Pleasures of Mother nature at work, disengaging…
Making a brew, having a wee-wee – blood-curdling!
I think it’s time I went for some counselling?

Editor Inchcock, happy as usual!

Inchcocks Local News Snippets in Odes – Issue 4⅜

Nor Human Traffickers!

Local News Snippets in Odes – Issue 4⅜

What do you think has caused this stabbing?
The first thing that comes to mind involves drug taking,
Perhaps it could be protection racketeering?
Lot’s of affluent students in Nottingham educating?
Of course, with kids, there’ll be sex rampaging,
And students getting drunk, meths drinking?
Which is more interesting than wordsmithing!
No doubt greed, jealousy, drugs or loathing!

They say it’s the twelfth fire on this estate…
The third in two months, a dodgy state,
Most on sites involving freight…
Or waste, recycling bases, what does this connotate?
I’ll let you know if I find out owt at a later date…

The gal had been taking drugs into prison, for hubby,
Well, they are not married; they met at a drugs orgy,
Making the prisoner an awful lot of money…
Well, for highs, they both have an affinity…
The Judge showed a lot of affability…
‘Go home and give your children a big kiss?
That sounds a bit naughty and cheeky?
From a Judge? What the hell is this?
I don’t want to sound finicky…
Does he want her to supply him cocaine or a kiss?
Mayhaps on the day the Judge was tipsy?

Just to show you how I’m keeping up with my usual luck in the gambling stakes. Humph!

Well, another Constabulary mystery?
Whatever has occurred? Was it unsightly?
Something vicious, frighteningly?
Eight police vehicles attended… Getaway!
Murder, terrorists or? What unpleasantry?

Bank robbers hiding? A car with no MOT?
Folks signing into their own homes to have a brew of tea?
One more police car, and there’ll be none free!
Trouble at Mill here, I can see!

I read these figures apprehensively…
I sense a Government con here; we’ll see…
Corona Virus, all about money, money…
They’ve upped tax, food prices, and to me…
That’s what they wanted to do, disagreeably!
Help kill off the NHS… do you agree?
There are more folks with the virus around me…
Grenfell, why’s no one been punished, Lordy Me!
Tories get voted in again! They get off scot-free?
Disgusting! Absobloodylutely!

Her killer doesn’t want to be involved in the inquest of his wife, who he murdered? But you would like to know the outcome?

And he’ll be Freed to Kill Again. I guarantee it! Knowing our Parole Board pillocks!

Scumballs!

I think that Lucifer is winning.

What’s the plan, God? Got any?

Pathetic PC sentencing here, methinks?
The legal system, I believe, stinks!
Scared to death of sentencing Muslims?
I can understand that; I come from the slums…
The future scares me…
From terrorism, gangs and every bent MP,
Today’s youngsters will never be free!

At least he only threatened to kill!

That’s the spirit, Judge. Lock ’em up! Seven years equates to about three methinks. With good behaviour?

A Cruel Tax!

I am so delighted to report on this sentence.

A jury of six men and six women took two-and-a-half hours to return a unanimous guilty verdict of manslaughter on Lawson Byrd, who deliberately caused the death of 19-year-old Gianne Obafial.
But they cleared him of the more severe charge of murder. During a two-week trial, Crown Court heard how the defendant, also 19, drove at and then over Mr Obafial in Mercian Way and headed off up Abbey Street.
Giving evidence, Byrd claimed he had no intention of causing the fatal injuries his victim received. Instead, he told a jury he “panicked” after seeing ” a glimmer of metal” in the waistband of Mr Obafial’s trousers and thought it was a knife.

BOLLOCKS! If that had been true, he could have got back in his murder weapon and driven off! Judge Shaun Smith QC said: “Mr Byrd, you have been found guilty and criminally responsible for the death of Mr Obafial, but they have decided you did not intend to kill him or cause him really serious injury. The bullying toss-ball was sentenced to jail for 12 years for manslaughter.

Convicted murderers have got less. I’m tickled pink!

See what I meant above?

Spotted this on Facebook

Interestingly, I spotted the Meridian logo on his uniform. The same company that Nottingham Council uses and tend to my needs. There’s no getting bored with them. In the two months that I’ve been using them, they have failed to turn up six times. Twice coming after midday, which meant it was too late for me to take my medications… in case the evening Carer came. Hehehe! 

On two occasions, they came late but early enough to allow me to take the prescriptions. My trouble… one of many, is having Vascular Dementia, and some days, I don’t realise if they are late, and my mind wanders off. Sad, but true! If someone was to contact me and let me know what’s going off, it would help. The other two times, no one came for the morning visit at all. I often wonder if I am being charged for it? However, and notwithstanding…

The Caring Industry is like the Security Guarding was when I worked for them. Under-staffed, underpaid, and so hectic you wouldn’t believe it! So, I can relate to the branch managers and the staffs’ frustrations. People not turning up and informing you ten minutes before their shift starts, and not showing at all! The good Carers are precious but have to cover all the time for a few. Just the same with the Guards. I have some really caring Carers who call on me, so patient and understanding. The industries are so competitive, with so many available, but none can be 100% reliable. What can they do? Charging more, thus paying higher wages, is a no-no for growth. Sacking bad time-keepers would be a pleasure for some managers, I know… but things would be worse then!

So, I have empathy and understanding of these problems. But that does not offer a solution, does it? Shame!

Luckily, I no longer have to struggle with those problems… nowadays I work to walk, do the ablutions, control my dementia, the eyesight failing with glaucoma, cataracts, and saccades all to be treated with a prospective up to 43 weeks to wait for the first

cataract to be done, the wait again for the other eye to be done. Hopefully, they will be using the Phacoemulsification method. I pray they might do both eyes lens replacements at the same time.

Then, glaucoma in both eyes as well needs to be sorted. (Eye drops only, I think?) Then the saccades in the right eye.

I’ll be getting my telegram from the Queen or King by the time I get around to having all these done and get to have an eye test done to get new lenses from the optician!

You can bet the dentist, DVT, or Cardiac appointments will come when I’m having the eyes done. That happened when I had the stroke; I went back to the bottom of the list. Hehehe!

I’ll just press blindly on!

The Nottingham Lads News Snippets in Ode