Inchcock Today: Saturday 1st October 2022

SATURDAY’s POLITICAL CARTOON
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I had not had any sleep to speak of; one horrendous night; With  Thought Storms, and each time I moved an iota, either the or else would wake me up, not that I did a lot of nodding off last night. At around 0600hrs, I was forced out of the discomfort of the £300, second-hand, musty, Haemorrhoid Harold Testing, cringingly beige, crumb-covered, not-working, rickety recliner.
Standing up, and getting to the Porcelain Throne, has never been more excruciating.

I got to the wet room and proceeded with the evacuation. Apart from a little bleeding, there was no struggle or pain involved. I decided, as I have done for several days now, that as I was already in there, I’d get the done. Which I did! I felt sure that I’d hear the door chime music if a Carer Came.
Started with the shaving. Determined not to get so many cuts this time, I went steady with the razors… but that was not working, not around the neck, anyway.
It’s not fair that the hair does no longer grow on the head but is growing enthusiastically on the neck and shoulder tops. I’ve just got to apply more pressure to get the soft twine-like razor-blocking type. I acquired about eight cuts, all on the neck, so I couldn’t see them. Looking in a mirror at one neck hole is impossible with and   jerking you about.

Got around to the medicationalisationings.
Harold’s Haemorrhoids first. Always the easiest one to tackle.
Med HydrThen the worst one, pain-wise, Little Inchies Fungal Lesion. A few, well, many Oohs and Arghs were released while doing this task.
I believe a couple of words describing my hatred of the lesion sneaked out, too!

The farce of trying to put the eye drops in the eye seemed more ridiculous than usual today. I used about a third of the new bottle, and of that, I doubt if much of it actually got into the cataracted eye. The nose, cheek, chin and chest… Yes! No problem with the nose spray. Germolenes the creases in the belly and put some on the neck cuts that were resisting the Brut and were still bleeding. I rubbed some into the hands as well. But there was no way I could get close enough to do the toes! Humph!
I’d have done the toes as well with the Phorpain. But the problem’s the same, isn’t it? I can’t get to them. I think I’ll ask one of the Carers to rub them both in if they would for me.

I was getting the fresh PPs out and realised I had left the trousers in the front room. So I popped in to retrieve them from the computer room;
The evening Care had let herself in and was at the Carers Desk when I limped into the room – naked, I thought at the time! Oh, what a mistake to maker! I hid behind the back of the recliner. Thank heavens that I noticed I actually had put the PPs on! Phew!
The was Sam. It all happened so long ago, it 18:00hrs, and as I say, the fatigued is coming on, so with that, the memory and concentration fade. So things may be short on detail from here on, as I have only my poorly scribbled notes to go by.

I missed putting this photograph of the morning view I took earlier.
Another not-too-great shot. I’m becoming quite skilled at taking these. And also the shaky-+looking pictures. Not to mention the mystery photos that came from I know not where. Oh, I mentioned them!
Noisy-Neighbour Herbert, in the flat above, has been knocking and tapping away on and off for hours now. And this continued until 17:00hrs When I got a blessed relief from them. Must have been having his dinner. I am afraid I am getting pissed off with Mr Untouchable, and for an hour or two, maybe four, each time he kicked off, I hit the ceiling with Metal-Micky. Who has not left my side and has been used so many times? I hope he complains… mind you knowing that ignorant superior, loved by the Nottingham City Homes Management, it’ll be in the wrong, and I’ll get myself thrown out of the flat.

Blogging on and off all day, and as the day progresses, so do my mistakes, errors, Whooposiedangleplops and concentration.

I spotted a bag of prescriptions on the Carers table that will be left for Richard to sort out on Monday.

I keep meaning to ask Richard if Meridian might ask for some Anusol to be put on my monthly prescriptions. Having to pay over £7 for a tiny tube is prohibitive. I hope I remember to ask and that they do add it monthly.
I got the bowl with some Dettol and washing-up liquid in it and gave the feet a good soak.
The toes are just not easing up, pain-wise. Mind you, paying a woman £25 pounds to cut your toenails, and she cuts your toes as well, almost every time you go… Is not good! I shall ask whichever Carer comes tonight (Assuming one does come, of course) if they will rub some Germolene on the toes gently. And Phorpain Gel on the ankle and legs. Surely I must get some sleep tonight after last night’s sleepless nocturnal hours?

Just as I was correcting the multitudinous above passage, there really was a lot of them to do! Arrived and read the above passage after giving the medications. Although she was late, she still agreed to do my feet for me; bless her cotton Socks! She’d seen where the tubes were and got on with looking after me. She’d chatted while doing them and was deserving of some extra treats, which she selected. ♥

HempAh, the feet felt better now! I was not hungry at all? So no cooking; I could concentrate on sleeping. Got the TV on so I could fall asleep when the commercials came on. I took a Hemp capsule; hopefully, that should calm me down, ready for the much-mossed sleep ahead. I thought I had worked out well all that I could do to encourage Sweet Morpheus to visit me.
Got the computer off. Some nuts and bikkies on the Ottoman next to the chair, with a litre of blackcurrant and apple-flavoured spring water.

Now for the challenge! Can I get to sleep?
Will the Thought-Storms arrive?
Will the unneighbourly, superior-natured, snotty, unfriendly, superior-acting standoffish kick-off so late at night again? With his weekend concerts of banging, tap-tapping and thudding again? Or, mayhaps, either or will ruin things for me?
We Shall See. I’ll report back in the morning to finish this blog. Fingers crossed of course.

I’m back.
I weakened and made a meal of sorts after all. A roasted vegetable Risotto with BBQ sauce added a banana and a pot of lemon mousse. The mousse was not eaten. The fries were added, and I dined while watching the 1968, I think, cup final twixt Coventry City and Tottenham Hotspur. Flavour rating: 8.2/10.

I washed the pot, back into the recliner and soon fell asleep… Bliss!

Inchcock Today 28th July 2022

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06:00hrs: I roused from my slumber and felt full of life and ready to get upped and at ’em… Thankful to find I was still alive. Blessed the Lord, praised my good fortune, I thanked the Heavens for another day of joy and merriment. And admired the state of my muscular six-pack stomach… Of course, t’was all a figment of my half-asleep, depressed, tortured, nervously agitated, dominated, feeble, and confused mind.

Truth? I felt horrible! Physically, things were not too bad at all! But only mentally.
Fair enough, I’d done something to the right hand’s middle finger, at the bottom of the nail. The tiniest bit of something sticking up, and each time I caught it on something, it stung like hell. Finger beginning to swell and redden? No idea what had caused it.
The ulcer is forever glowing and growing one day, then sinking and hiding the next? But the Doctor said she’s not bothered about this, so it will be alright. She was concerned with the fluid retention and swelling and took the time to talk to me in great depth to explain the malady and how and what to do… She said (To Meridian’s Natalie on the phone): ‘Tell him to put his feet up.’ Nothing like a caring Doctor, I imagine. But how would I know?
Commenced. The body temperature was once again almost perfect, close to the said optimum of 35°f, with 34.6°f. Perfick!
Sphygmomanometerisationing session next. These returns were far better than yesterday’s were. SYS down to 134, DIA 63, and the Pulse down to 79 bpm. This looked good to me. I got the computer and put the figures into the NHS DVT site to see what they make of it. I got a details list; come back this time. The Blood Pressure was pleasing, especially with it going up yesterday. I’m out of the red zone again! Very satisfied with being n the pre-high area. I’ve not done that very often… well, in the last month, I have a few times.

Carer Richard arrived, looking a little more sprightly and not yawning. I was going to ask him if he’d got a decent sleep in at last, but he volunteered that he has four days off now and will see me next Monday. He needed a break. I bet someone doesn’t come in, and they call on Richard again. Poor lad! He checked the medical drawer to ensure sufficient medications were available until Monday. He noticed I winced when I was getting his treats out; when I caught whatever it was, thingamabob, whatnot, near the nail. Told me to level the bit sticking up and put a plaster on it. So, I did! Feeling an idiot for thinking of doing that myself! Haha! We had a natter after Richard had done the medicationings. Taking my waste bags with him on the way out to the rubbish chute for me.

I got the kettle on, and as I did, it was as if someone had turned the light off… The sky went ominously dark very quickly. I got the Canon camera and took this photo. I was expecting a downpour any moment, but no! Within a few minutes, the light had returned. Dr Who would have known what was going on? But not me. Hahaha!
I noticed the usually plus green meadow at the bottom of the tree copse was looking a little weather-worn. But not around the edges, but only in the centre? A dog-walker was picking her little white dog’s poo and putting it into a bag for the poo box. This got me thinking of my younger days living in the Meadows. If memory serves me right, and my long-term memory usually does, the short-term usually affects me. I can recollect that there was an abundance of dog droppings on my paper rounds, and I reckon 74% of it was white or grey. Even some of the cats’ evacuations were! No one ever thought of collecting the turds back then, of course. They’d get dried and then used as kickabouts by the local kids.
I’m assuming the whiteness was due to malnutrition of some sort? Looking back a the food given to some dogs makes me shudder. A lot of dogs ate with the family. Whatever they ate, the dogs did. Then along came the new Lassie and Chappie canned dog food. 3d a can! This equates to about… let’s see, there were 240ds to a pound, so if divide 240 by three, excuse me while I use the calculator… that would buy 80 cans for a quid! Those were the days! Today one tin of Chappie cost £1.30; what percentage rise in price is that?

But the dogs on our terrace did not take to Lassie or Chappie. Apart from Mr & Mrs Wright’s Rover. I knew that Mrs Dukes Sammy, Mr Marsinacks dog (I can’t remember his name), and the barber, Mr Barker’s three dogs, Lilli, Brutus and Chelsea, hated them. Not so bad for those three. The owner could afford fresh or canned meat for them. Other dogs continued to pass the white lumps, most of them going from bin to bin in search of fodder. Still, no one complained about the dog mess… I think we thought it would just evaporate. Ha, Ha!

I spent hours and hours doing this blog. No one called, no hassle… apart from the odd overture of noises from the antisocial, smarmy Herbert in the flat above But, not a lot today… up till now, anyway.

I’ve run out of bread; I do have some part-baked cobs to use, though. I made an order from Iceland for next week and ordered a few loaves; there should be room in the freezer for the bread by then.

Getting late already. I got the meal sorted. I worked things out oven-cooking-wise (Huh!); The veggie burgers needed 30 minutes cooking, the potato Rosti’s 20, so I planned to put the burgers in for 10-minutes, then add the rosti. And what a danged mess I made in doing so.

Muggins here did it the opposite way around! Realised five minutes later that and removed the rostis, burning my wrist as I took them out, and dropped one on the floor.

Reconstituted and shaped it, burning my finger,  and got the burgers in and cooking.

Dropped the plate as I was putting the peas onto it.

Forgot to add the rostis after 10 minutes!

By then, I was pretty self-critical, and at that time. Herbert kicked off with a tap-tap-crunch routine.

I’m sure what I did then, I was pretty stressed and miffed. Somehow, I got the mess sorted in a fashion. And got sat in the £300, second-hand, decrepit, Haemorrhoid Harold-testing, sleep deterring, nauseatingly beige-coloured, not-working, recliner, and ate the meal from a tray, balancing precariously on the folds of fat on the stomach. While eating it, I kept getting twinges of guilt for leaving the kitchen sink with food-burnt-on oven trays soaking. Still, despite it all, I ate all of the fodder and scored it an 8/10 for taste.

Put the plate to one side and drifted into a deep, almost heavenly dream-filled sleep. I’ve no idea what I was dreaming of, just knew it must have been something pleasant… For the Evening-Carer had arrived and stood over me, looming and speaking… I thought at first that this must be a part of the dream. My mind was all over the place. The gal had not rung the ♫Oh Susana♫ door chime and came in without me knowing. Good job that I wasn’t changing PPs or wee-weeing in the bucket! I was a little out-of-it, slow, mentally, having just been woken up, so things were foggy about the visit. Got the meds sorted, and I think we had a little natter about something. I walked to the door with her to lock it. Thanked her and offered a treat, unaccepted or wanted on this occasion. Wished the gal all the bestest, and I hastened back for a wee-wee. Not had one for a while.

No shaving cuts… because for some reason, I forgot to shave? The feet looked a little colourful, but I’d not long been out of the shower, so that would have some bearing on their condition, I reckon. Back on the computer, after failing to nod back to sleep. Another ruined night’s sleep. And I’m paying to be woken up to be given my medications! Hahaha!

I found a lost photo of the front car park from this morning.
The vehicles are parked rather decoratively, don’t you think? A colourful selection on view.
Guilt reminded me that the kitchen had not been cleaned yet. So I cleaned it, then got back to the comp[uter to update this blog to here.

Then I went into ponderisationalistical-mode on what today’s Ode should appertain to… Well, I sat here waiting for inspiration. Listening to the dreaded World-Wide-Hum getting louder and louder, or seemingly so!
An hour later, I am still awaiting some afflatus or eureka-moment to inspire the Ode into logicality… no, no, that won’t work. Best do the normal then, type away and hope for the best, no doubt struggling for words, what they mean, how to spell them, miss-typing and spelling, confusion, inanity… the usual stuff then. Sorry about that.

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All the bestest!

Inchcock Today: Rescued Photos

Due to Trotsky Terence causing me hassle and pain,
The Porcelain Throne visits happened again & again…
Dementia Doreen made my concentration transmundane,
I couldn’t find the camera, my language became profane,
After hours, the location was successfully ascertained…

Some form of hope, I started to regain…
However, they soon went on the wane…
The camera’s SD card had disappeared again!
I searched for hours… no hopes remain…
Doreen Dementia… a permanent bane!.

On and off for a day, I was frantically searching…
Up and down, my emotions ever lurching…
From never-mind to self-hating…
At times, mentally self-fustigating,
My psychological state… was beyond interpreting!

Leaving no stone unturned, I again started SD card seeking,
No luck, so I sorted out the laundry tub to do the washing…
Found the card in my pyjama top’s pocket; amazing!
So turned my attention to sorting the grazing…

I rather enjoyed this vegetarian noshing,
I found myself doing an awful lot of belching?
Fell asleep, to wake up and extrapolating,
Sorting the world out… hypothesising,
Starting with how to stop the MP’s hornswoggling,
But soon found this was too mind-boggling!

Checked on the plates and pins state…
They looked a lot better today, mate!
Nice, when I find summat to appreciate!
One day, I hope to see a little less weight…
A dream, more than a thing to anticipate!.

Better tend to my mornings ablutioning,
Cleaned the teeth, then on to shaving,
Had an excellent slow, steady session of showering,
Then on to the uncomfortable medicationalisationing…

I dried off, oiled and rinsed each earhole first,
Little Inchies fungal lesion done, with a blood-thirst,
Harold’s Haemorrhoids… painfully the worst!
Eye drops, mainly missing, Tsk! A curse!

Accifaupas dressing, an accidental photographing…
Dropped the camera, no damage, so not too vexing,
So, I took another of me posing…
This one came out to my liking,
Smug-Mode developing!

Found a shot of Ice-cream that’s Vegan…

I added some sprinkles, to it…
It gave the bad tooth some jip!
Amongst the contents are turnip?
I’m not bothered, I loved it!

The Blood pressure was well high…
The Body temperature is nigh on perfect!

Morning Car Park Piccies!

This morning’s waking view,
The Porcelain Throne needed going to…
I hit my shoulder as I was going through…
On the doorframe, I think I said thank you,
To Shaking Shoulder Shirley, too!

The evening dawns, is that the right word?
Not that anyone will be bothered…,
Cause later on,
I took these that outshone…
Nicer coloured, better favoured!
Then this beauty, later on

FOOD, GLORIOUS FOOD

And used it to make this super meal

The highlight was the vegan burgers, each eaten
twixt two slices of Milk Roll bread. The fresh
garden peas, tomatoes, and baby new
potatoes tasted excellent!
A pot of jelly & custard, and delightful
lemon mousse, to round it off!
GORGEOUS! Flavour Rating: 8.5/10

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My mentality is being steamrollered,
My aims and intentions are steered,
I lose control, it’s time that I surrendered,
Unless I can get help… my brain mended…
My dreams are black & white, yet multi-coloured.
Ideas, plans destroyed or embroidered…
At their conception, logic was avoided,
Minimal new memories are remembered
Dark thoughts are often harboured…
But shortly, into the ether, they are melted,
Intentions and aims cannot be deciphered…
And I made them, I’m just dumbfounded…
Over nothing, I can get easily flustered,
When aims and fears amass and get clustered…
Which reminds me, I must get some mustard!

Inchcock’s Make Them Laugh in Ode Series

Inchcock Today: Monday 16th May 2022

Monday, 16th May 2022

I was hoping for a better day!

Things stirred back to reality at 05:25hrs, after 6 hours of sleep and various periods of jumping awake. Making a total time being awake of two hours. Does that make sense? Sorry if not.

According to the best I can make out from the scribbled memory notes, the next occurrence was; P.Tarone Enight? Beats me!

I rose like a tried elephant from the c1968 second-hand recliner, grabbed walking stick Metal Mickey, and went to the wet room to get the Ablutions done.

But my dithering nature interfered, and I took the waste bin out of the wet room, emptied the others and made up some waste bags. Took them to the flat door.

It was drizzling outside, and as I put the kettle on, I took a photo of the road to the left of the kitchenette window. Plenty of trees on it get fresh air.

It’s no wonder I’ve never seen a for sale sign on the beautiful looking Cavendish Vale.

The skies were, I thought, ripe for a few minutes of pareidolia. I’m keen on finding figures in the clouds. But on this occasion, I failed to find any. Humph!

Well, apophenia, finding figures in anything, creases, reflections, cracks in floor tiles, and bulging veins. I’m experienced in that one, having more bulging veins than most people.

I made the tea, went to put the milk in, but diverted back to getting the ablutioning done.

Well, once again, it was a fair session. Fair enough, a few teeny-weeny cuts shaving, but no knocks and bangs, dizzies, toe-stubbings or tumbles. I didn’t engage the Smug-Mode… it’s early yet.

I even got out through the door without any shoulder-charging of the frame… Yes, go on then;

Got the laundry bag sorted. Made another mug of tea for the one I let go cold, and Dizzy Dennis gave me a few moments of concern… only a  short bout, maybe a minute at most. But it had me holding on to the stick and hastening to sit down. But Dennis disappeared, and I was fine when I stood up? There are no messages from EQ, but I think it may be another semi-harrowing day, somehow? 

Sunday’s photograph of the messy mud-slide onto the end car park on Chestnut Way. It has been known for Cataract Kathleen to do this to me! I hope I’ve not put this one on before?

This is this morning’s shot of the same area. I found some more of the indecipherable scrawl on the memory pad here, not the foggiest of what it meant. Try as I did, it remains a mystery,

A sudden robust rumbling from the innards!  I was all but too late, getting to the Throne in time in seconds. Trotsky Terence controlled the evacuation. Gawdawfull messy it was! Had to change the PPs (Protection Pants) I’d put on an hour ago! Ah, well, I got everything cleaned up.

Richard arrived late; he’d had a lousy shift, I think. The poor lad looked done in. He still had a look at the SD card for me. Putting it in and out to see if anything changed; and found that the card had split! He took the waste bags out with him for me, with my thanks.

I hope the new card works in the Canon and the reader accepts it. Praying here! I opened the card, full of hope and cut my finger on the plastic! Got it fitted in the camera (not the finger, the SD card), and I tried taking shots that I did yesterday to use here and test the system. Good heavens, it worked! So, I engaged in the use of the, with reservations. As you can see here, it worked.

Outside my Winwood Heights Independent Living block of flats, I hobbled out onto the balcony to look at what was. Conducted my Blood Pressure and temperature checks. SYS 154, DIA 68, Pulse 78, and the body temperature was a decent 34.1°c.

A couple of miles away, I took a zoomed-in shot of HMP, her Majesties Nottingham Prison. And thoughts and questions permeated through… “I bet they can see their prison Doctor or Dentist at any time?”, “They’ll get their cataracts done quicker than I get mine!” “They are not worried about the rent, electricity, food, transport, bus fares, etc. going up?” “Most likely, get their free computers mended for free!” They’ll not worry about forgetting to lock their doors either! Hahaha!

Gawd, he’s been at it again, almost one-stop since morning. Bang, tap-tap, scrape, thud, boing… I did not retaliate. After all, what is the point in haggling with the self-centred, impolite, insensitive, disrespectful, snobbish, haughty, pompous, pretentious, uppity, scoffing, contumelious, smart-alecky, and ineffable, cruel, unsympathetic, toffee-nosed, self-important, nyaff, noisy nasty man?
As luck has it, I like him.

Far too ridiculously late, I made a start on this blog. Of course, something had to go wrong…

Am I the luckiest person on earth, I asked myself?

Of course not!

That honour must go to Steve Fries, the bigwig of Liberty Global, Whose inability to send an uninterrupted internet signal to Nottingham earns him $23 million a year!

Jealous? Me? Yes!

Miraculously, it was only down for a minute or so this time; I felt almost happy about it! Temporarily!

I thought I’d better check to see if any messages or missed calls had been received while I was so busy being mucked about my Herbert and Fries. Still, Herbert entertained me with some clattering-about sounds.

Could I find the phone? No! There was worry but no panic initially. All I had to do, was go through all of my jackets and trousers that I’d worn since I last used the mobile phone (whenever that was). I vaguely remember putting it in a pocket and saying, “Don’t forget that it’s in that pocket!”

Within about ten minutes, I settled for Thursday, when the foot lady texted me telling me I was late for my appointment again… that was in the brain box! I engaged my Sherlock Holmesian Methodology, and first, I worked out when I last went out. Now, what was I wearing? Maroon jacket? Blur jacket? Black trousers, or green trousers? Was I wearing my trousers – nobody said anything.

After a heated discussion with myself, I narrowed it down to the green or black trousers; and the red or blue jacket, all of which were in the laundry bag. Then thought, aha! (I do that sometimes), It might be in the pyjama bottoms, two pairs of them in the laundry. I almost felt confident as I went into the back room to search for the clothing in the bag… I should have known better at my age and after many years of failed memory training!

Well, now I was getting hot under the collar! I smugly checked through every pocket and the bag… not sausage in there. (Not that I was after one, of course, a figure of speech and all that).

A lengthy search in each room and all the clothes hanging up in the front room and the hallway proved a failure, with no mobile to be seen. Of course, if I knew my mobile number, I could ring it and hope I heard it to locate it. Although if it was in a pocket, as I still believed it was, I might not hear it anyway… I rang the desktop dancer and Warden Deana to ask if she could ring the mobile for me, but to was engaged… oh, that reminds me; she is six weeks away from getting married; bless her, and a lucky fellow too… I digress again, sorry. I do tend to do that a lot.

I rummaged, rooted and ferreted about, delving into the most unlikely of places, all to no avail. Then a spark in the brain suggested that it may have fallen and gone underneath the cabinet or recliner? Worth a look, so I did…

I got the torch and was leaning on the arm of the recliner to get low enough to check the sides, with my intentions bravely being, if no success, to get on my knees to look under the chair. But as I was leaning forward and on my left leg – perfect timing from the Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, who gave me a flailing right leg out of control dance… Which naturally had me on the floor in seconds. The spectacles are now in a precariously loose state of repair. Also, I’ve got two newly bruised knees and a red cheek from hitting the arm on the way down!

As I was recovering and considering how to get back up on my feet, Deana came in at just the perfect time! She got me up, made sure things still worked with the legs, and laughed at the (at the time unknown to me) red patch on the cheek that looked like a clown’s make-up! Hahaha! Not really, but she should have.

Deana rang my mobile. I couldn’t hear it. But she found it, under the cover on the back of the computer chair… in a jacket pocket! I am totally losing it, and a twit!

Well, worra day! Again! It’s nearly 1700hrs now, so sleep looks like being late tonight. This blog is not halfway through yet! I pressed on with it like a mini but fat hero, determined to get it up to date…

♫Oh, Susana♫ rang out. I hobbled to the door (It was a pronounced hobble, the right knee was in some pain, Tsk!) and found Josie returning the jar that held the two meals for yesterday. Bless her, I could not hear what she was saying, but plashed a smile, mentioning Betty Bunter, bless her.

Arrived, soon sorted. Then, I had a go at catching up on Facebooking. Then comments on WordPress.

Got the nosh started. It is now passed 21:00hrs. It’s been another gruelling day. I caught my hand on the oven dish as I took it out of the oven. I believe I said, “Bother!”

Veggie burger, fries, tomatoes and some sugar snap crap Ecuadorian peas. I realised a small stale cake and an out-of-date, but I could not see the date, and tasting it realised it was rancid. The banana was okay, though. However, despite these minor upsets, the flavour rating given was 6.5/10.

Had a wash, and when I came out to do the pot washing, the great sky looked to me just like an oil or water painting.

I took my time taking the last photo, as it was zoomed-in and getting the Canon camera to hold steady enough for a decent shot was not easy. I probably had to take six or seven tries to get this last one, which is not very good. But retains something about it that I like.

I deleted the old snaps on the new SD card. Thinking it would be less confusing for Kathleen’s Cataracts, Doreen’s Dementia and me. But no, I only deleted two that had not been put on the computer yet! Hehe!

Getting to sleep was nigh on impossible; well, it was. The Thought Storms rampaging through the brain, self-hatred, shame, fear… I was in the right state. It’d been a messy day, but why this? I put the TV on, but that didn’t send me off. Utter worn-outedness did it in the end, around about 02:30hrs!

Still, yers don’t like to complain, does yer?

Alto-Inchies Ode on Inchcock

I’ve been a bit worried about Inchcock for many a day,
His brain has been loaded with worries & clamjamfry…
Doreen’s Dementia is getting more and more on display!
His memory is shot to pieces, bar some bits of scintillae,
He’s had two falls, one on Sunday, another on Monday,
His outlook, ideas and hopes become anachronistically…
If they come at all, his writing is full of godwottery!

But it wouldn’t help if he won the lottery…
He’s lost interest in anything financially…
His nest egg dwindling, becoming almost eleemosynary,
Worried over increases, rent, care, food, even his tea!
Electricity, travel, all risen in price, becoming too costly…
Will he get through it? There’s no guarantee…
If he tops hissen, what’ll happen to me?

Alto-Egos don’t always have it this easy,
Dominating Inchcock has been easy peasy!
Where will they move me? What human will I accrue?
Putin? His Alto-Ego could resign, but will he do?
I’d like to get at a human that’s evil, bloodthirsty!
For I fear I’ll get another docile twit like Inchie.

Written to create a laugh and or smile!

Inchies Tips & Advice for Whippersnappers, Ablutionalisationings & Medicalisationings

ADVICE & TIPS ON FUTURE AILMENTS TO COME

I’ve given myself a challenge here… Where do I start?
Well, I don’t want to sound like a worrywart…
But you may like to put this guide on a wall chart,
Get prepared, to wee-wee, bleed a lot, and fart?
To the wet room, with ablutionalisationing, we’ll start…

Well, getting your clothes on and off, will be a work of art!
The socks removal will hurt in every leg part!
Pants and PPs, shirt and hat off, you’ll be knackered,
By the time you start teeth cleaning, paddy-whacked!
Then the toothpaste to extract…
Peripheral Pete causing shaking hands, distances inexact…
Toothpaste on your chin belly and feet… it’s a fact!

Nasal clearing, avoid catching the new pustulation…
And shaking hands, need careful manipulation…
Stabbing up the nose can cause a concussion!
Due to the dying nerve-ends neurotransmission!

Then the eyedrops, they miss each time, despite my best attention,
Evolve drips anywhere but the eyes; to the mouth, via obambulation,
Oh, while I think about it, you’ll have to have a fundoplication!
Shaving’s the next job, which always causes apprehension!

You’ll cut yourself several times, no need for overreaction…
The Brut aftershave serves as a blood stopper medication!
Mind you, it stings, you’ll swear in protestation,
It’s just another necessary daily ritualisation!

Then comes, the dangerous part, of showering!
It’s no good fearing, and cowering…
It must be done, like an everyday thing!
Dizzy Dennis arrives, you stop the soaping…
Then drop the loofah, bend in retrieving…
Hit your bonce on the powerbox, your heads now reeling…
Loss of balance sometimes, a usual old folk feeling…
Then you often find yourself falling…
But getting back up is more appalling and galling,
Usually, you’ll drop things again…
But, to avoid any more pain,
You’ll kick it away, then you may start talcing?
Till you stub your toe, then start cursing!
But there are more things yet, that will be paining!

No mirrors in the wet room, I mention tactfully,
For fear, you’ll see your flabby midriff’s rotundity,
Which will bring on the depression, for a certainty,
You’ll find spotting your reflection, rather dismally,

Little Inchies Fungal Lesion will need ointmenting,
Especially if it’s been leaking and bleeding!
The certainty of agony needs acknowledging…
Some think this procedure, is bestiality, brutality…
I can tell yer, I don’t think about affectionately!
And I don’t tackle the job exactly bravely!

Arthur Itis knees to be Phorpained, to lessen rheumatically,
An easy enough task, although the limbs can get greasy…
It’s the Phorpain Gel, the box says it’s liable to flammability?
Still, a good massage and rubbing in seems to work easily.

MedPhorpain

The Germoloiding of Harold’s Haemorrhoids is a pleasure,
Always effective, instant relief, this ointment is a treasure!
But you can’t buy it when on a Special Offer…
Full price, cause the makers, want to fill their coffer…

You’ll be able to get a cream on the NHS, Anusol, but it’s crap,
And you’ll need to wear sunglasses and a hat…
Use walking aids, hearing aids, spectacles, blind as a bat!
Cataracts, Glaucoma and Saccades will be begat!
I’m getting mixed up here, where was I at?

I named Accifauxpas, to such incidents as the above,
Having digits etc. bruised, and cut, you may not approve,
But incident rates will never improve…
As you grow decrepit and old, it’s the truth!
There is no way to make things accident-proof…

I named Accifauxpas, to such incidents as the above,
Having digits etc. bruised, and cut, you may not approve,
But incident rates will never improve…
There is no to make things foolproof…

But there is a way, to ease them and help make them better!
You don’t believe me? I can hear you mutter!
But clean the wound, Give it a Germolene smother…
As antiseptics go, there is none betterer…
It soothes and cools wounds with no palaver…
Keep a tube in the first aid box, it’s a good manoeuvre!

You’ll lose any skill you had at handcraftsmanship,
Sewing, darning, woodwork, sculpting, or need a replacement hip,
A new knee or two, a mechanical ticker, ready for the crypt…
So when things start to fail and collapse, don’t lose your grip!.

Don’t look back at the days when you were nonhandicapped!
Or even when you could risk being back slapped,
Or when you were capable of being able and schlepped…
It’s important for you to be able to adapt!

You’ll only compare things, with now and then,
Your mental and bodily decline, remembering girls like Gretchen?
Your confidence, comparative memories, do not enrichen!
In fact, they have been known to bring on depression!
Recalling the romances, victories, how many were they, ten?
Your first fumbling grope – can you remember who and when?
The Auntie who always bathed you… you were happy then!
But such days will never return again…
Have you still got love letters, written with a pen?
The name of your very first kitten?
Or the first dog by which you were bitten?

When your life was considered to be sublime, Utopian…
Some details will be embedded in your brain, unforgotten…
But many of them inspire things you think were rotten!
Actions and decisions that were taken by you; were you forgiven?
Or like me; having Thought Storms of guilt and derision?

There is an ailment that can free you from making many a decision…
Vascular Dementia Doreen, she’s good at memory suppression,
Also, she jumbles up numbers and dates, like a statistician…
Or mayhaps, more like a politician?
That reminds me, the Dentist and Optician…
Appointments to cancel, that’ll cause derision,
Is it a pediatrican or maybe a metaphysician?
I might be better off with a dietician or magician?

Cataract Surgery is my latest thing worrying,
Two Phacoemulsification operations or something,
Then Glaucoma operations in both eyes…
Then there’s Saccades procedure right eye,
But worrying about it is not very wise
Seeing an assessor on 3rd May waited five months, irking,

So by the time you Whippersnappers get to my age,
The NHS will be a memory, but you should manage…
Unless there is a world war again, violence is savage!
The private owners of the hospital will add a surcharge…
£200 for a bandage, £30 to be unbandaged, if you haemorrhage…
£50 a pint lost, and for cleaning up there’ll be an added charge…
An entrance fee if you have to use the triage…
Visitors will be charged, £35 an hour on average…
£40 a cup of tea, £60 for coffee, £40, for other beverages…
Medications, an Aspirin at £35, according to dosage…
Visitors can have a variable-priced massage…
Grizelda £45, William too, either-way Brenda, £200 with frottage!

I think I got carried away there, sorry!

Inchcock Today: Diary with Odes

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

Roger Rabbit, waving to Lisa & Bill ♥

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


Inchcock Today

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, obviously not that much… Git!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today’s end car park inspection photograph.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An Ode to an ‘Orrible Day

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

Morning all!

Inchcock Today: Tue/Wed 16/17th February

Wednesday 16th February 2022

The body woke, and immediately appreciated that I can only remember waking up four times! Much better sleep!

The brain failed to fully engage! For I somehow found myself in the spare room sorting out the bag for Independent Living Coordinator, Warden, and desk-top dancer, Obersturmbannfuhreress Deana. Wondering why I’d done this before having a wee-wee or even putting the kettle on to make a brew of tea confused me. (Doreen?)

I had a wee-wee and checked on Little Inches fungal lesion (itching a bit). But it was not bleeding, I just cleaned things up and applied some teeth-grindingly painful ointment to the affected area. Argh!

Thought I was going to make a brew of tea… found myself topping up the Treats-Shelf instead? It was obvious to me, plainly, that Vascular Dementia Doreen was going to be in charge of things today! I could do nothing about choices until things calmed down from her. Which, thank heavens, they did shortly after I’d made a brew of JS Red Label Extra Strong tea. But Doreen’s attentions were mentally crippling at times today. So annoyingly so, as well.

Went to make a brew and took this photo of the dark, dank morning view.

The SYS was not too bad. Pulse at 90, up a bit.

Humph! I did drop the darned BP machine as I was putting it away! Tried it out again, nervous of it being buggered, but it worked okay. Used the Chinese (Hong Kong) made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer. The surface temperature read as 34.5°c. A bit higher this time. Good!

I got settled on the computer for a slow, challenging, frustrating session on the Local Snippets blog. Not much went right the first time, and much correctionalisationing was needed. But then again, this is the usual scenario nowadays.

05:45hrs: As I got up to go for a wee-wee, right-loud clunking noises came from the flat above! I think Herbert must have had an Accifauxpa of his own. Didn’t bother me, mind; I was up anyway. I don’t think it was loud enough to be heard by anyone else who might have been trying to sleep. Not that the sanctified, consecrated, uncommunicative, ascetic, aloof, sniffy Herbert would be bothered.

Around 06:00hrs, I spotted the moon through the balcony doors, peeping through the thick clouds. So I searched and found the Canon camera, which I’d left on top of the microwave, and spent some time taking many snaps of the moon. Determined to try and get some decent ones this time.

I think I took about ten photographs of the planet in total, but these four were the only ones that came out fairy acceptablyish. At least, I hope so.

Back to the computer and blogging. However, things WordPress-wise came to an end for a while; why?

Fries salary has since been increased to $23 million!

The landline flashed and rang. It was from Natalie of the Health 7 Social Care team, called Meridian. To explain to me that they (Meridian) had had another no show, and my Carer should arrive by 09:00hrs. Nay fuss! Fair enough, at least they let me know.

When $23m salaried Liberty-Global, number-crunching, mist and mirrors boss Mike Fries, Virgin Media got the connection back, I pressed on making errors after mistakes on the blog. After a couple of hours, the card reader failed to identify the SD card reader… Grumph!

Eventually, my trial and error, or the computer did it on its own, the reader was loaded. I stopped doing the blog, and I caught up with other things. Email reading and replying. WordPress reader, then comments. Then on Facebooking.

Carer Elena arrived and looked after me in a caring and attentive way. (I loved that! Hehehe!) She had been called out to cover for the absentee. Elena Took the waste bags to the shute on her way out for me.

I got the blog done and posted and began the Local Snippets one. However…

.

Gnash! Groggleturds! Gorblimey Crap!

To done-in mentally to do any more blogging now. I got the ablutions tackled. Aye… Worra good session it wor! One little cut shaving, a very minor toe-stubbing, and no falls, walking into anything either! Medicated, refreshed, into the new PPs, night attire donned, and off to get summat to eat.

Deana called on me, and we had a mini-chinwag.

The thud, thudding started from above, so at least I know Herbert hasn’t snuffed it. Shame!

My only success of the day… Cheesy baked potatoes and sausages. Sound like nothing special? But I altered the recipe I usually use to make these treats this time.

  • Take the grated cheese out of the fridge an hour before needed. Best do it after starting the oven going.
  • Clean whole potatoes in a not too hot oven (180°), Part of the secret here, cooked at this lower temperature, but for longer. Top and bottom of oven selected.
  • The cheese, preferably Red Leicester, or any strong cheddar into a large basin. Put the cheese in this, then sprinkle some anchovy or distilled vinegar into the dish.
  • Add a good-sized knob of best butter.
  • After at least an hour and a half (according to the size of the spuds), check to make sure the potatoes are really soft with a semi crispy husk. (If unsure, you can sprinkle water on the spuds as you put them in the oven to cook).
  • Remove the pots when nice and soft inside, and cut them each in half on your chopping board.
  • Remember, once the oven is empty, turn the temperature up to 220°.
  • At this stage, expect burnt fingers, and be prepared to make a mess…
  • Save the skins to one side.
  • Spoon out the flesh into the pre-prepared basin and cheese. (You may need to apply Germolene to your fingers afterwards).
  • Mix well with a fork to start with. Then changes to a spoon. When you are content that you’ve ironed out any lumpy bits…
  • Spray the inner of the half-husks with a bit of vinegar or oil of your choice.
  • Load up the husks with the bashed-up potato-cheese mixture, in fact, overfill them a smidgeon, and press down with a spoon.
  • Then run a fork over the top of spuds so that they will brown off crisply and easily.
  • Get them back into the oven, and expect them, if medium-sized, to take 20 minutes to half an hour. But keep checking cause different varieties take different times to cook and brown off.
  • Traditionally, you can now treat any burns gather the many clumps and splashes of potatoes bits and cheese from the floor, cupboards and your clothing.
  • Once you are happy with the colouring to your taste of burntness of the half-potatoes, all you have to do is remove them and resist eating any before they get onto the plate!
Wunderbar!

Serving Suggestion wot I dun last week

I got settled in the recliner, and blissfully I fell asleep. Ah, nice!

“♫ Oh, Susana… ♫ rang out, and Carer Valerie came in. Couldn’t really have a natter as such cause she was on her mobile most of the time. But she granted me some time eventually. Hehe! Thanked her with some treats, and off she trundled. ♥

No messy tonight. I got the head down after Valerie had departed and remembered to take the Hemp capsule. It was lovely drifting off. I only woke up about for times, marvellous!

=  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =

Thursday 17th February 2022

Only a few wakings up during the night. I’m well pleased with that, but, on the fifth…

I more or less sort of bolted into wakefulness. Full of misapprehension, a muddled state of mind, and in desperate need of a wee-wee! Don’t know why I mentioned it now. Although it’s been this way for over a week now…

I worked out who and where I was as I tumbled out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, haemorrhoid-testing, unfit-for-use, not working, recliner, and had wobbled like Charlie Chaplin to the wet room. I’m not sure why I did not use the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket); it would have been so much quicker?

Despite Bladder-Barry insisting that I needed a wee-wee so badly, things did not flow very easily. I waited patiently and could almost feel the flow coming from the innards… girded my loins as felt it invade Little Inchy… and a pathetic trickle evacuated, that was so painful! Aha, another infection! I wondered if I had any of the tablets left from the last one… but lost my train of thought when an instant need of the Porcelain Throne arrived; at the perfect moment while I stood above it… I thought.

Oh, dear, similar trouble as the wee-weeing? I got sat down, thinking things were going to erupt from the rear-end. I was still there ten minutes later, having a go at the crossword puzzle. Nothing much was moving much at all…

Then, an explosion of gas had burst free! Obviously, I didn’t see it, but I got the feeling that it had caused ripples on the water in the bowl. Instant relief of the pains! Within seconds a mammoth, rock-solid torpedo slowly, very slowly forced its way out, hitting the water before it was entirely out of the bum?

There was no discomfort with it at all? AS I stood up, the stool moved, and splash and clunk were heard… well, I think they did. No mess whatsoever. Mind you, there wouldn’t have room alongside that missile!

Got a good wash and beclothed my body. I went to make a brew of tea. I’m not sure what I did with the camera, but the photo I took of the morning view came out really vivid. I mean, it was around three o’clock in the morning; how did the Canon camera create light when it wasn’t there? Then I remembered dropping the camera last time I used it… argh… I wonder if it’s damaged? I’ll take shots of the Health Checks in a bit, see if the camera is okay this time. Or, did I change some setting when I retrieved the thing from the floor? I’m talking to myself again!

I went to get a duster to clean the computer screen and saw that the moon was appearing through the smallest hole in the dark clouds.

So I skedaddled and got the Canon camera post-haste and back to the kitchenette.

I had to photograph them quickly, cause I could see the clouds enveloping them all the time I was focussing.

One of the pictures came out in a different size to the others? I now have to assume that I broke something in the Canon when I dropped it on my foot yesterday?

Or is it me?

My progress on blogging has never been harder work than it is today. I am so frustrated.

I suppose with getting up early and the kerfuffle with the wee and Throne, added to the semi-confused state of my mind… this must have affected me in some way? Or am I just waffling again?

The care arrived after 07:0ohrs. The new gal, who is so confident. Kiya, I think, or maybe not. She spent a while chatting with me, trying to settle me, I guess. She also recognised I was not like my usual self. Damned good that, after just three visits. ♥

I spent a lot of time doing the header and top graphic. Got them done in CorelDraw and put them onto this blog… Then, realised I’d put the wrong dates on both of them… Gragnangles! It cost me another hour or more to get them amended and reposted!

Aha, I’ve not done the Health Checks yet! So I did them. Started with blood pressure taking. The figures looked okay to me.

Then on the temperature taking. Which was getting higher at last. Apparently, 35°c is my minimum target, they tell me. It’s the closest it’s been for a long time now. Jolly good show, eh?

I found on the SD card a photo I took earlier from the kitchenette window. Forgetting things and getting confused is the mark of the devil; Vascular Dementia Doreen!

Did I mention she’s moved in?.

I just had a visit from Dizzy Dennis. One of the instant jobs. I’m going to get off of blogging now, and get a sit-down, and try to do nowt for a while, Thought Storms permitting.

I made a meal of sorts, potatoes, a small microwave BBQ burger, and a lemon cheesecake. Nowt fancy, but I needed rest and sleep so much by then. Still, I did enjoy it, such as it was. Taste-Rating: 7.5/10.

Washed the fodder things and got down in the £300, c1968 recliner. Mind confused and so tired, and within minutes I was off visiting Sweet Morpheus… and dreaming with it.

Half-an-hour later, ♫ Oh Susana ♫ rang out as the Carer entered the flat. Carer Fria Freestone, at least I think it was. Fria soon got the medications sorted in a matter of fact way; she chose her treat; drink (Tequila) and nibble (Easter egg), and was soon off, bless her.

I checked the flat for anything not safe. Taps etc., and got back down in the recliner. At first, I struggled to get back to sleep, but thoughts of Jillie arose, and I was soon off once more into the land of Nod! Hoping to stay that way for once… I’ll see!

Inchcock Today: Diary and Local News Snippets

I woke up with a smidgeon of contentment lurking…
But it wasn’t to last long after the awakening,
I recalled a dream about my baking, breadmaking…
I kept getting it wrong and getting a rollicking…
From a woman who was nasty but breathtaking…
Somehow from the bread mix, I made crackling?
She gave me a kick in the goolies and a smacking!
Yet I seemed to enjoy this… I must be barking…
Next minute I’m under a car looking at the breaking…
Moved on to be with Bill Ziegler, explaining fracking…
Back to the kitchen, the woman sneered and headshaking…
Frying eggs now, the woman constantly nitpicking…
Then I woke up… a daft dream, but thought-provoking!
Well, not really, I was only joking!

————————————————————–

05:25hrs: Tuesday 8th February 2022

I stirred into semi-pretend life to find scribble on the notepad of a dream. The pad lay between my knees; the quilt had been thrown over the Carers chair… Amazingly, there were no signs of nocturnal nibbling.

So, without trying to catch my balance, I dismounted the second-hand, £300, charity shop-bought, gungy beige coloured, rickety, c1968 recliner and staggered ASAP to the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket). As this was being digested into my slowly catching the body up in wakefulness brain, possibly the most urgent for months, a desperate wee-wee was needed, and Bladder Boris was in no mood to be stemmed or delayed! He let me know this, with the usual stabbing pains…

Doing this, Trotsky Terence started to demand an evacuation, and I had to get to the wet room and Porcelain Throne immediately… for he was beginning the movement of his own accord! I feared accidental frontal and rear leakages as I hastened into the wet room…

I hit Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley against the doorframe on the way in, but this did not stop my pursuit to the Throne. I got the pants down and on the seat with a thud. The action started immediately I was down… well, the rear-end a little before I’d got down. Being Trotsky Terence controlled, you can imagine the extra-mess things made that needed cleaning.

I sat there, Shirley twitching away like a good un, and feeling lucky to get there almost in time, and sorry for myself and ashamed that I didn’t… if you understand what I mean? It was another messy job cleaning me, and the wet room furniture, at least Harolds Haemorrhoids and Little Inchies fungal lesion were not bleeding, so after a bit of thought on my situation. Due to the early release from the read end, and the liquid nature of the evacuation from the rear, some of the product had sprayed onto the porcelain and floor So, I almost cheerfully got the disinfectant and mopped the floor.

I deemed that it could have been a lot worse. And actually cheered up an iota!

By the time I’d cleaned up, washed and dressed, I’m sure I was singing to myself, in fact!

I got the Health Checks done. But this time, things had gone back to their usual worrying levels, Tsk! I suppose the kerfuffle with the evacuations didn’t help matters, so I didn’t worry overly about these figures. Hopefully, they will be back down in the morning again.

The Sys was up a lot (43) at 171, Dia up to (62) 80, and the Pulse up to (69) 76. The body temperature showed 34.8°c, about the same as yesterdays reading was. Oh, it’s a little low, says Google. I think.

Carer Richard arrived shortly afterwards, and he was in a bit of a rush, running late. We still managed a mini-natter. During which the Ocado order arrived. The driver was given a thank you can of pop. He left the bags through the door for me, and I set about getting them into the kitchenette.

Richard sorted the medications, treated him, and after another mini-chinwagging session, he had to go. A good lad.

I started to sort out the incoming fodder. Two Pukka pies I could not remember ordering in there? One was a cheese, leek & potato one? I’m sure I’d have known if I ordered that? It might be a substitute?

Still, it sounds alright to me.

Three cans of curried beans, on offer they were. The tub of C&A lemon mousse was 65p for a tiddly tub! So, I only to one of them. All part of my economy-drive. Hehe!

A mixed bag of stuff on the wheeled trolley server. Orange jelly, bleach and Dettol lavender scented. A quick wee-wee had to be taken! Washed and back to the kitchen sorting.