This week the News Snippets are reported, recorded and commented on, by The Nottingham Pensioner Lad, Inchcock (89).
Alto-Ego Inchy: I apologise for the Odeing included in the comments. But the lad has had minimal education. Now, with him contracting Vascular Dementia, as well as various other ailments; Hearing aids, mechanical ticker fitted, Glaucoma, Saccades, Cataracts, Stroke, Peripheral Neuropathy. His tendency to either waffle on, lose the plot or regularly forgets what he was doing, where he is, or where he was going; does not make for readable poetry. But there’s no stopping him. He only sulks when I point out these and other failings to him. Sorry.
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Well, this looks good,
Be happy surely we should?
Read the next one and chew the cud!
Your interpretation will go down with a thud!
I’m aware of how they feel, every patient,
I’m waiting on may a medical appointment,
Dentist, Chiropodist, Doctors yearly check…
That’s been a wait of three years, by, heck!
Audio, DVT and Cardiac…
Then the operation on the cataracts,
Glaucoma and Saccades and the Diabetes in fact…
Will I live long enough to get my treatments?
Sozzled, drugged up, and a man with a violent bent,
But will there be a return to prison requirement?
Easier for him to get drugs in there for his sustainment?
Maybe they’ll offer him some mental treatment?
Tell him sorry if this is inconvenient…
Give him some cocaine and pay his rent?
Run of the mill stuff, for the Nottingham creed,
I understand that he was a gynaecologist,
Nothing suspicious, the chap wasn’t a druggist…
Police won’t look too far into this…
With nine officers attacked and on the sick list!
The Police and I…
Have no idea why,
So sorry the lad had to die…
RIP son… It makes you cry!
No matter why – Animals!
All this violence, drugs, gangs, I comprehend?
Slave importers, youths will re-offend…
No deterrent do the courts send…
Viciousness threatens, it’s today trend…
And I think it will only worsen!
A judge was I thought the only person…
Who could, these crimes amend…
But no, so I’m scared and disheartened!.
Self-Centred Scum!
Well, this is interesting news for Sherwood…
A 48% increase in crime figures, should…
make my blood boil, make me angry and rude!
I’m not surprised, I’ve not seen a policeman since May!
Didn’t even see one on Tuesday…
Plenty of yobboes lurking…
Don’t suppose they are working?
I just pray they don’t mug me today!.
Raliegh, John Players, Debenhams, Topshop, Oasis, WH Smith, Burton & Dorothy Perkins, River Island, Banks closing down, Virgin Media sold to Liberty Global and has been ruined by them, Macintoshes, Rowntrees, Frys, Cadburys all sold to Nestles…
But fret not, we have 14 new takeaway shops opened… even though 12 went bankrupt in the last year?
Well, looking at my arm that’s encouraging.
So, basically, she’s got 25 days, what an hour a session? Going to some Community Centre; probably gets a free meal, and she can do some drug trading at the same time. I assume that courts will be providing her with a taxi both ways?
Sunset shots, no idea when from, sometime in the last three days I’ve been without the capability to upload.
Tuesday, mayhaps.
Yesterday morning (Maybe?) Colin Cramps was paining me, All night long, eight hours, no sleep, scarily, But still, in wealth, health, finances and pecuniarily… I have no worries… I am totally hassle-free… I’m lying here, to a certain degree… I can’t walk properly… It’s harder than ever to see… Arthur Itis murdering the knee… Constantly I need a painful wee-wee, Lost the remote control for the TV! Using the Porcelain Throne leaves things increasingly phooey! And to varying degrees, it’s always bloody! So many medications, I’m becoming a druggie, Of pains, aches, worries, fears… I’m never free! Diabetes stops me from eating chocolate and toffee… Always some other medical examinee… Vascular dementia has taken my minds synchronicity, More operations are due, but that’s just a technicality, I’m coping well, really, but with a vulnerability… Too occasional depressions and pathetic self-pity, Yet, I’ve a gift of physical, not mental, survivability, Sometimes, I have an outlook of determination and doability… Often prevented from actioning by my docility… Yet, I press on, causing more damage, such is my senility… Why did the Lord give me life, but not the ability? Fair enough, he gave me more than a fair share of verbosity, And great bonus, in a massive bouncebackability, But far too much instability and aperiodicity? Not to mention my fretting, worrying and trepidity, Oh, I said them – that’ll be the memories absentia! Psychasthenia, I’ve avoided, I’m glad to say it’s not obligatory, Thank Gawd, for my beloved Lisa, Jenny and Jillie 🧡
Made up some Polish pork sarnies, so good they tasted! Planned it for them to be ready, To eat it watching the telly… Heartbeat was on… but I soon capitulated!
I’ll turn on the telly a fine-looking nosh, and I waited… Again, my plans had been incapacitated… The TV remote had absquatulated! Spend so much time searching, going wud! The meal went stone-cold; it could not be ameliorated! No TV, eyesight too bad to read; aggravated! Hearing no good to listen to the radio… The remote control was not appropriated! After a lengthy search, of finding it, there was no likelihood, I was self-annoyed; I could have spat blood! At least the sandwiches tasted really good! A Dark Depression accumulated… As the next Whoopsiedangleplop, I awaited…
The following day I woke, and photo’d the feet, The limbs looked okay, felt alreet, Colin Cramps was easier last night, his pains petite, Then, as I moved, the action was only slight… Arthur Itis attacked – in the right knee, with all his might! Hearing myself whimper made me uptight, I struggled to move and was not very sprite… Then, went to Phorpain it… What a sight!
My disjointed but prettily coloured patella.
The sort of knee one may find on a troglodyte? No sunshine for them either, very little light, But I was more concerned with the failing eyesight, I make myself a sarnie, using Vegemite… Just two little slices, more weight I will not incite,
It was cold, misty and windy tonight, Got the camera, the end car park to highlight… Will the computer let me import? Well, it might… Good heavens, it did! Much to my delight!
The red van on the no-parking zone is like a benchmark, It’s never been known to park up properly, I remark… The van reminds me vaguely of the Bismarck?
Sod it! The knee cap’s come out, off to the hospital!
I beginneth the Ode, with the tale from Tuesday,
With food being delivered from Iceland, I say,
Sainsbury’s, I wanted to use, as I would, ordinarily,
Could I get access to their site? No flipping way!
Hence, my disappointment today, Wednesday…
Sorting the food delivered left me in dismay!
I opened the first bags onto the server trolley tray,
Bananas looked nice and green, should last many a day,
But the potatoes had growths on them and use by this Thursday!
No faults with the orange juice, pasties Cornish and Cheesy,
The lamb shanks I’d not had for a long time (budgetary),
I’ll have a lamb shanks in gravy tonight, to myself I did say…,
The next load I put out on display…
The dates left this septuagenarian giddy!
No dates on either pack of tomatoes, hey!
Both lots were soft and beginning to decay!
Two loaves of bread, both expired today!
Sugar snap peas, they were safe until Friday!
The mushrooms one day left, Wednesday, today!
The other stuff’s dates seemed to be okay!
The last few bits seemed better by to review,
But the brown cob packs should have been two!
But they only sent one, which was dearer – Boo!
Fairy liquid was on offer, just £1… that’ll do!
Oh, and the sweet chilly Thai sauce was £1 too!
Then the old warped memory came into play…
I didn’t want or need the chilli sauce anyway!
Memory-Lapse – another waste of effort, and monetarily,
For I’d got a massive jar last week,
Pissed off with myself, so’s to speak.
My Biggest Gastronomic Disappointment Ever!
Sob, Blubber!
I got around to cooking the lamb shanks at last
I got around to cooking the lamb shanks at last, Such a long time since I’ve had such a repast… I could hear my taste buds as they clacked… Remembering the glorious taste, from the past… Assured the delightful flavour would be a blast!
My hopes were high; I intended to eat it all… But my cheeriness had a great fall… It was horrible! I didn’t like it at all! Sweet and sickly, for lamb, not natural, Disappointing and incredible! The sweetness made it inedible,
Why did I trust Iceland? Incomprehensible! For Iceland, it’s only typical… Nowt to fret over, nothing unusual… I’d buy them out and sack them all… If I had the wherewithal…
Depressed! I pottered about in the cupboards
Stuff in the end cupboard, to be eaten…
Most unwanted substitutes from the heathen…
Wicked Iceland and Morrison’s: They are Rotten!
Unwanted crap I don’t like sent, all too often!
No shortages of seasonings, though… Parsley, Chilli, BBQ, Pickles and Oxo, Lea & Perrin sauce, Balsamic, Marmite, The innards are rumbling… problems gastro?
Oh, dearie me! To the Porcelain Throne, I had to go, Shit! I’ve just stubbed me hammertoe! I’m just not a lucky bunny, you know! What was I odeing about a while ago?
The cupboards… vinegar, soups, beans, red, gungo, Mulligatawny, black and white pepper, Go-Glow… Go-Glow? Why is that in there? A mystery, though? With flavourings galore! Core, my toe’s getting sore… No meat hereabouts… A lamb shank for sure… A packet of out-of-date marshmallows…
Ah, I’ve got the bean and cheese pasty in the fridge! I checked the sell-by-date and found a dead midge? I’m struggling here, just a smidge… With this Odeing verbiage… Hell, summat else out of date, a box of porridge!
The Door Chime, Chimed!
It was the Amazon delivery;
On the orders of cleaner Esther, I’d ordered an ironing board…
But another Whoopsiedangleplop had matured!
These and Accifauxpas for me, are assured,
There’s no way stopping them from coming; it can’t be cured!
Their perpetuity can be assured…
I think that can be said officially; rest assured…
Another cock-up, mistake or Accifauxpas will be sculptured!
They just can’t leave me alone; it’s such a bind!.
Thoughts At The Time
Is the ironing board a self-assembly one, then?
The box wasn’t heavy, it’s too tiny, indeed… Freakier!
Got inside and found they had sent; no snigger!
An ironing board cover? Another Inchy blunder?
Now I can see where and how and feel in despair!
Is that not a picture of an ironing board above there?
My lousy eyesight causing problems there…
I’m fed up and don’t think life is fair!
Inchcock’s Making The Best Of Things Series – In Ode
I woketh up with a sore throat and extra-tight chest,
Not exactly poorly, but not feeling at my best,
The Porcelain Throne found another abscess!
Work the ailments off; that would be best…
So I hand-washed the jumper and brown vest!.
When the shirt was finished being washed,
I saw the pots from last nights lone symposiast…
On the draining board, messy, unwashed!
Dropped the plate onto my toe it crashed…
So, I made a start on the blog, unabashed!.
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Change of Plan!
Upon seeing the twinkling lights at their prettiest…
I got out the Canon camera for a photo fest…
I tried to take some close-ups, appreciate them to the fullest,
Two came out looking the nicest…
Good work from the local Christmas lightists!
Ah, spotted some more; this one made me feel chuffed!.
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Carer Richard Arrives!
Onto the computer with the freshly brewed tea,
I didn’t pour it on it, just took it with me… Hehe!
An hour or so later, the door chime rang out to tell me…
Carer Richard had come to look after me, medically!
It seems that I must have looked worse than I felt this morning. For the lad was deeply concerned at my pastier than ever, face and violently shaking limbs! Which was appreciated. I explained about the sore throat and tight chest and had a job to stop him from calling for the paramedics at first.
When he gave me the medications, he saw the tablets coming back up fin the throat and out of the mouth onto the floor. (The missing teeth make it hard to stop them when this happens. Haha!) I still didn’t feel poorly, just out of sorts, but Richard phoned someone (111?) for advice. They, whoever it was, suggested he call for the paramedics. I explained further about my not feeling really bad, the food delivery that was due, and a call from Gill was expected, so I was not keen on missing them. When the medicine came back up, he called the ambulance for me. Bless him!
The food delivery arrived while we were waiting. Richard put the stuff away for me, and paramedics arrived. To chaps gave me a good going over. And ECG, temperature, and Blood Pressure. They recommended I go with them straight away to the Queens Medical Centre. I was still a midge reluctant, but Richard and the ambulancemen all thought it necessary, so I gave in.
My not being used to having three people talking simultaneously, a fair fluttering of flusterationing made me a little confused about what was going on.
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Prepping for the Journey!
The Walker would be needed, the medic was not too keen on it,
I relayed how much easier it is than relying on a walking stick,
One of the men conceded but was worried it going missing…
“You’ll be moved about on a trolley for hours. I’m not kidding!”
“So many get stolen, or at least go missing!”
“It’s pandemonium in there… don’t mean to be discouraging!”
“But we can take it with us, and, to save you worrying,”
I’ll put an ID badge on the walker-guide thing!”
He did Too! How kind was that! Great! Thanks, Mate!
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Arrival At The Queens Hospital
Paramedic chaps got me and the trolley to the A&E Emergency,
Waited in a corridor, on an uncomfortable wonky trolley,
I was pleased when the others moved swiftly…
But they slowed down somewhat, busy place, much activity…
All cubicles full got the first examination embarrassingly…
As they checked me for Covid, outside a lavatory!
Then they checked my rear end… deep in the cavity!
In the corridor, I exposed my protection pants and more…
Whatever they were using left me sore…
I’ve no idea what they were looking for!
My embarrassment, beyond repairability,
The depths of depravity!
They had a queuing system that would baffle you at best…
Each time I was moved a few feet, it was never less…
The walker-guide, but, they were busy I guess,
I had to ask for the trolley each time; I think I was an optimist?
I reckon I wee them off; they did look pissed!
Then, out into a corridor again, all bare, not the prettiest!
Corridor Back Into the Main room
Aha, I nodded off; they woke me to give me attention. Over the next four hours, I had two ECGs, blood tests, Warfarin blood test, and Blood pressure was taken, and I fell asleep again. They woke me moving the hospital trolley again, and I turned to look for the walker-guide, and someone was rifling through it at the far end of the room, and it was a big, cram-packed with people, room! Other trolleys were moved, and I lost sight of my special trolley…
It took me over half an hour to find someone who would talk to me, but I found out she was coming to me anyway. She humphed, sneered, and went of to retrieve the Walker for me. She was back in a minute and crammed it betwixt my arm and the divider wall. She was not a happy gal at all!
To my amazement, she got out the ECG and BP stuff again?
I bravely asked her, “Are the other readings not right then?”
She calmly replied: “Nae, we lost them…”?
Adding, rather wittily, “Yer can’t expect fings to be Utopian!”
And she never spoke to me again!
The Noisy Moaning Git!
By now, ten hours or so, I’d been in here, innit?
But I was not feeling in the slightest antagonistic,
In the trolley in front, a chap getting verbally vitriolic…
His tackle on view, he was getting verbally athletic!
I could No Longer Stay Silent!
Mouthing it, scratching his balls, wearing no underwear!
“I’ve been here half an hour – nobody’s seen me, taint fair!
I said: “It’s a hospital, not the Mayfair”,
He swore back at me; I said in answer…
I’ve been here for ten hours clear…
So, give them a rest, or I’ll give you a vestibulocochlear!
Amazingly he quietened down, and folks gave a cheer!
That word stayed with me for some reason, not sure what it means. Something to do with Peripheral Neuropathy, I think. No one was more surprised than I was when he quietened down. I was expecting him to get up and attack me. Mind you, I was ready and prepared.
He made me so angry. Even two medical staff thanked me! Hahaha! I got a cup of tea and some biscuits.
Lady Doctor From Cardiac DVT Clinic Visited me!
Basically, she reported that the Warfarin INR level is satisfactory, and the mechanical aorta-valve is doing its job! I thanked her!
A nurse arrived to do yet another ECG & Blood Test
I dare not make any comments, although she was a lot friendlier with me this time?
My trolley was moved around for the next two hours
An A&E doctor came to me and said You’ll be allowed to go home shortly, and they have arranged a lift for me. Great!
Seven trolley-moves and an hour later…
A young lady came to collect me and the two trolleys in a white coat and took me into another department to await the lift being arranged for me. Given another cardboard cup of tea and more biscuits. At least now, being out of that haemorrhoid-testing big trolley and in a chair, I can drink and dunk with less hassle from Neuropathy Pete’s shakes.
As I fell in love again, I inquired of the white-coated buxom young lady; I have not been for a wee for 19 hours. Is there was a WC I can use, please. Only if you need a wee, no closets are available here, as you are not allowed back in the treatment room again. Oh? I confirmed that I only needed a pee, and she gave me a cardboard urine pot and told me where to go to use it. So, I did!
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Taxi Home
An old ambulance took me home, not a taxi, A man and daughter team, jolly nice folkski, We had a good natter en route, socially, The chap came up to the flat with me… Offered him a nimble or plonk, to thank him dearly, Beer & Tequila, his choice, Cheers he said appreciatory, Using the loo, he departed; I think his name was Hughie.
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I had to get the itching ECG pads off
Coor, that’s betterer!
Food, the next task!
Very Tasty! Baked bean and cheese pastie, a BBQ beef burger and a pot of lemon mousse with spray cream, lots of it! Gorgeous!
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Medicated A Few Areas
No more notes on the writing pad
I must have fallen asleep?
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Part of The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe In Rhyme
With Inchies comments in Ode. Crap Ode, fair enough!
Here we go…
Inchy: I wrote upon this news, a comment what I thought,
Needed saying, about my views on this report,
About dangerous bike riders and Escooterists,
If I was young enough, I’d give them some fist!
Not that I’m a spoilsport…
Pavements are not there for their sport…
They should use the road, was my retort!
This will be perfect planning for those who snort,
Muggers, pickpockets shoplifters, should go to court!
But they rarely, some never get caught…
That’s the end of this verbal jaunt!
Not looking good, these figures, are they tommyrot?
I don’t know, but I do think not…
The anti-maskers, I disagree with this lot…
Being careful is best in the longshot…
Maybe each one of them is a barnpot?
They show aggression, wanting to form a protest riot?
Hah… I’ll just get me dinner made, chips and a carrot!
Well, the above new, will give normality a jerk though,, Coronavirus has limited the number of people at work, Working from home is back, I see, Not that that is relative to me… At last, from that pressure, I’m free… I don’t miss it to any degree!
It’s the few who have to go to work, get my simpatico! I know words can’t really help them; they seem shallow… But in a few years, they will feel a warm glow… Yes, retirement… it may be a shock, though? There’ll be little rest; they should know… So, I give advising a little go…
Things You May Find When Retired: Of course, it depends if you’ve retired or been sacked… Made redundant, nowadays that’s more of a fact, 70% of over 60’s get heart attacks… 80% will get cataracts, Brittle limbs get broken or cracked, If you did work, did you check your pension contract? An area in which I sadly lacked… The Government wants to know your finances; use tact… People over 65 more often get hacked… HM taxation will rarely use the word subtract… It’ll help to see the Doctor, to get Prozacked… Dementia, memory loss will ensure you get sidetracked… HM Inspector of taxes checks, you are honest, in fact… Oh, 90% of passengers were killed when getting highjacked… Still, we’ll leave off that fact…
The truth is, you won’t be fit or rich enough to own a car, Thus avoiding the floods, stay home using your camera… Snap the poor devils, sell them photos later, from afar… Then get ready for Arthur Itis, ulcers, and likely, oedema!
If they did ban them all, one day, to my amazement,
There’d be so many more unlicensed drivers prevalent!
Untaxed too, so what can we do?
What other form of punishment, a thumbscrew?
Too expensive to consider imprisonment,
The problem’s likely, beyond reconcilement!
I’ll tell yers while, Mr Magistrate,
He’s got you weighed up, straight!
Send him to prison, and you capitulate,
His laundry is done, free food, he can sleep in late,
No rent to pay, free medical care, to appreciate…
From the next peter, he’ll get his barbiturate…
Have time to read, watch telly, and cogitate,
To hand, will be a different way to cohabitate?
He can buy a knocked off phone to confabulate…
Oh, yes, he’s got it worked out, mate!.
A life sentence? Huh!, Rubbish! No time for Odeing on this one… Kenneth McDuff: killed three teenagers, a life sentence, released after 11 years. Three days after his release, he killed again! David Edward Maust: While stationed in Germany, Maust killed a boy and was ultimately convicted of manslaughter. After being released, Maust stabbed a friend in his sleep, drowned a 15-year-old in a quarry, and slew three teens and attempted to bury them under his home. Steven Pratt: Two days after being released from prison for shooting and killing his next-door neighbour in 1984, Steven Pratt beat his mother to death during an argument. Arthur J. Bomar Jr: is a repeat offender who was in and out of the justice system multiple times. After being paroled from a Nevada prison in 1990, following a second-degree murder conviction, he may have been involved in three murders in Pennsylvania. Then, a few years later, he used a fake police badge to stop a female college athlete on the interstate and brutally murdered her. After he was finally caught in 1997, Bomar was charged with first-degree murder, kidnappings, aggravated assault, rape and abuse of corpses, and he was formally sentenced to death by legal injection. Hurrah! In the UK: Andrew Dawson, George Johnson, Ernest Wright, David Cook and Desmond Lee were all allowed out on licence despite getting life sentences; All killed again!
Derwent Street on the right. The railway line going behind the houses, was where I existed as an ankle-snapper
This Ode was written, in memory of the bad times. The start of my life-long Whoopsiedangleplops, Accifauxpas and Failures. Also, the two good things that happened while living here; but, they were my last two good things, and I can’t remember them clearly.
In Inchies youth, some kids could be vandalistic, Most were foul-mouthed verbalistic… With tempers, through ignorance, volcanic! Nobody learnt how to use a chopstick, Most uneducated, we had rickets and hair-nits, Food options and choices were limited; we couldn’t cherrypick, No vacuums, all had a dustpan and broomstick!
The teachers didn’t care; they were unspecific… Volatile youths, spitting, swearing and unhygienic, Educating in our school? Best learn survival… so tragic! There always seemed to be some sort of epidemic… Most whippersnappers got measles, worms or were tularaemic, School life was about surviving bullies, all unsymmetric!
Threats were rife; each street had a gang, all misanthropic! Most homes were two-up-two down, bare and mephitic, But believe me, I’m not intending to be a critic… Life was what we were born into, not to us, pyrrhic… We made the best of what we didn’t have. Life was quixotic, Poverty drove some of us to do things mildly despotic!
To survive each day, we had to be chameleonic… Keep alert for gangs, any contact, you must be phlegmatic… You’d still stand a chance of this proving pyrrhic … You’d still get name called, and a wallop, many a skrik, Fear turned many of us into being schizophrenic!
Comments from the Nottingham Proletariats, Photographs, bad grammar and punctuation, and other sundry rubbish!
Starting with the serious stuff. I’ve placed a picture, with the report of the Doctor who is responsible for so many deaths. Hopefully, if anyone is going in for surgery, and recognize the Doctor, can refuse to be treated by him.
Mr X, Nottingham resident (84), suggested that the return of hanging would be more of a deterrent.
Mr X, Nottingham resident (84), quoted; Most likely a drugs gang killing. See the watch the youth has on? And the tattoos, are they a gang thing or what? Bring back hanging, and they won’t do it again, now will they?
Mrs Y (82), a sweet-natured local resident, is all for starting a Nottingham Mafia, to control the crime waves that the non-existent police force can’t cope with. Adding; It’s the judges and the legal system I blame as much as the crude scum we’ve let into the country. A well-armed Nottingham Mafia can keep an eye on the rare odd police officer when they see them, and noble the offenders on the spot. Scumbags!
Wilberforce Hutherswaite (73), a local resident, commented on the rising prices that are getting out of hand. It’s the bloody Tories again! They are the buggers that own or have shares in the rob-dogging, European owned greedy companies, purrin’ the prices up agen! It’s the Chinese who started off the Coronavirus, but yer cun rest assured that the other crooked politicians and shareholders have played a part in it… all designed to put prices and profit up! I towed ’em thurrit’d happen! Farsounds of illegals to feed too!
Still, yer doesn’t like to complain does yer. ‘ave yer gorrany weed on yer to spare, Inchcock?
Wilhelmina Thunderthighs (77), a retired RMN nurse from Huddersfield originally, a Nottingham Resident since she got out of prison in 1975, offered her views on the Coronavirus situation, with figures spiking again: “I blame the anti-masker shitheads. Likely unemployed benefit-claiming morons. You know, those with several different fathered ankle-snappers, and on their fifth live-in partner! One living rent-free in Sherwood, I read it in the Evening Post, so it has to be true… claiming child benefit of £690 a week, get their electricity and gas paid for. They’ve just had their Universal Credit reduced to £650 a week, so they will not be happy… But will they wear a facemask? No! Erm… what was the question?
The new Coronavirus variant found in Nottingham is of concern.
Comment from Ecclisiastclese Edwards (67). That’s the fourth fire this year on the industrial park in Lenton. Obviously, brought Abarght by the illegal immigrants they employ. I don’t blame the incomers, who can blame ’em for gerrin’ away from Lithuania, Poland etc., not me! If any other country would house and feed me if I got away, I’d take it too! Them who are escaping wars who I feel sorry for. Cause, there are bound to be some murderers, paedophiles and terrorists among ’em, that’s to be expected. I reckon some arsonists have sneaked and got underpaid jobs ‘ere?
Comment from Blanche Bloomerworthy (78), an ex Prison Warden, living in Sherwood, Nottingham. I’ve been watching this happen every day for months. It dawned on this morning, can you eat these ducks? They could be a solution to the food shortages?
Unfortunately, Inchcock got his walker-guide wheels stuck in the snow this morning. Over he went, landing in a blubbery mass of flesh onto the wet grass and gravel. He’d like to thank the youth passing by for not stopping to help, and calling Inchy a f___cking old idiot, as he carried on his way on his Escooter!
Created in the furtherance of Inchcock’s desire to entertain and amuse others, with his rather ultracrepidarian style of reportage. Nottingham Local News Snippets gleaned from his ‘YourArea’ Emagazine. He couldn’t resist adding a few comments himself… in his desire to test out his non-existent newslettering, editing skills.
Why do they use this photo? Defeats me?
Scumballs!
Well, they seem happy enough here?
So sad that this is happening!
Oh, dearie me!
Ex-Street-sleeper chap. Now a disc jockey. His ideas are reasonable, it seems to me… but not in the middle of the road on a traffic island, not safe that. Still, if it gets him some publicity, it won’t do any harm to him. No fine ensued.
It read that he was also done for Blackmailing.
Poor old chap. I’m so glad they have found him and sorted him out. But why was he allowed to get this bad? Cheery news that he’s getting assistance.
Then got the potatoes, boiled with balsamic vinegar,
And a spot of Worcester sauce, & a pinch of demerara sugar,
They’ll do for later if I remember the bugger,
With the chilli, and put on some more sauce, tartar?
Titivated the kitchenette, dropped a jam jar!
An excellent job that it wasn’t the caviar!
The jar didn’t break, and it missed my feet…
Things were going well, all seemed alreet,
Off to the computer with a mug of tea, took a seat,
I even nibbled some biscuits, wholewheat!
The landline rangeth, the Amazon man, a right pain!
T’was then that my good luck, nosedived again!
We couldn’t understand what each other said,
So I went down to meet and talk to him instead,
His English was better than my Afghanistani,
But he left me, in the lurch, there was no barny…
He abandoned the food with me in the lift foyer, the Git!
I had to get the parcels into the lift, and I wasn’t fit…
Back up to the 12th-floor, struggled to get the bags out,
Then had to get them into the lobby,
Then into the flats lobby,
Then into the flat,
Then the hallway…
Then the kitchen, my energy drained away!
Next, the swearing started, I have to say!
The Git had put bleach in, it leaked, had to throw my bananas away!
The baguette buggered, utter dismay!
Tomatoes crushed, and I was feeling bushed!
Honey yogourts pot fell apart; I was further crushed!
Got the salvaged food sorted,
I was pissed off; I felt like I’d been ambushed!
The cooked ham was crumbs and crushed!!!
I was feeling despondent, to say the least!
Can’t see myself enjoying tonight’s feast!
Got the fodder all sorted… What was eatable anyway!
I was determined to get the treats out today for those who have helped me out over the year. Jenny, Norah and Frank, and Obergruppenfürher Deana and Obersturmbannfuhreress Julie, the ILCs (Indeependent Living Coordinators) at the flats. I rang them both to tell them I’d be coming down later to see if it was alright, as they may have been busy. Recorded messages on both phones that told me they must be busy. So I’ll get the goodies sorted out and go to Jenny then to the office with them.
As I was going out of the door, struggling a little with the walker-trolley, the postman came into the foyer. Oh, dearie me! This sounds like it may be a con-job?
An official-looking brown envelope, a white one, and then he handed me an ‘insufficient postage bill for nearly £11 for something that has been sent to me?
He kindly offered to ask his boss if he could pay for it for me, get the ‘parcel’, and I can refund him, and he’ll bring it in the morning. I was dubious, as I don’t think ~I am expecting anything through the post? Anyway, I thanked him and took him up on his generous offer for me, with a certain feeling of doom.
The white envelope was from Meridian, three A4 pages, about my Christmas needs for carers, Logging-in, Shadowing & Spot Checks, McMillan Charity Ball, On Call Centre procedure, and a Service-User Forum Wednesday 8th December at Foxton Gardens.
I didn’t over concentrate on owt, but the dodgy sounding parcel postage cost thingy. Then thought I’d try ringing the Wardens again, let them know I was coming down to see them and ask if they could have a look at the Social Services letter for me.
Finally, I got back to the walker-trolley of goodies, of off down to Jenny’s. On the way down, I thought to myself… well, I felt sorry for myself, really. Everything suddenly going into panic mode; surely things must calm down now… Hahahahahaha! Crap!
I called at Jenny’s flat, rang the bell and knocked on the door, and returned to the lift.
Down and into the connecting corridor with Winwood Court.
Called at the Wardens Interrogation and Body Search Room and dropped off the nibbles. Dean checked the Attendance forms for me, and I signed them. At last, something was going right – Hey-Ho! Little did I know what Accifauxpas and Whoopsiedangleplops still awaited me yet!
Then realised I had not put the prescriptions list in the envelope.
Back up and down in the lift again, and down to Deana.
Gawd, it did! I thanked Deana and hobbled out of the Winwood Court foyer, the first time I’ve been in the fresh air for months now, I think… But it proved to be a hazard ridden journey to the post-box to mail the letter… Just when I stupidly thought things were getting better again…
Unbeknownst to me, the wind was howling out there, and it whipped the envelope and paperwork out of my hand, high up in the sky, swirling around and then seemed to turn back in my direction, falling down in the car park twixt the vehicles. So, if it had blown off again, I would not have seen it again… Semi-panic mode engaged. I pursued the envelope and had to search a bit to find it. Still, the relief when I saw it trapped in between the branches of a bush was welcomed, even more so when I managed to get at it in time before it flew off into the clouds again!
I limped hastily as I could to the mailbox, checked the envelope, and posted it; thank heavens for that. Although, my EQ told me it would not have mattered, because as the voice said: “You ain’t going to get no financial help, any and either way, cocker!” Which was a smidge disheartening, bearing in mind EQ has never been wrong with his forecasts… no, I tell a lie, sorry. He was once, just the one time.
I hobbled back inside and just had to tell Deana what had happened. At least she got to laugh out loud before going home for the weekend, bless her. Hehe!
I set off along the link corridor and got to the connecting door.
Boy, did I feel a fool!
I could feel the key fob in my jacket pocket, but could I find a way in to get it? No! I assumed it had gone through the lining of one of the pouches. Back through link passage and to Deana, thinking she may have some scissors for me to use, to cut through the pocket.
Within a few seconds of investigating the jacket pocket for me, Deana put on a broad grin – that I believe actually said, “What a pillock!” As she pointed out that the sleeveless coat had two pockets on either side, one behind the other!
I blushed, felt the pillock above, thanked her, and scurried away in embarrassment and fast as I could… back, yet again along the corridor.
The hobble back into Woodthorpe was masked by the deep and genuine worry about what the hell am I doing? Since retirement, nothing going right, or even things going wrong, has been a part of my life, but I am not coping so well with things nowadays.
The trip up in the lift left little recollections of anything. I should have guessed that Dizzy Dennis and Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley were about to erupt; the hassle for such a long time nearly always ends in a tumble or similar – this time was no different, I’m afraid; Well, it was actually.
The haze came over me as I began to push the trolley through to the lobby from the cage. I gave myself such a bash on the right shoulder; it knocked me sideways, I clouted my back on the other side of the lift, and I went down, almost in slow motion!
My Luck Changed!
I had no idea who it was, but a bloke came out of the end flats and got me up on my feet again. See, I am fortunate sometimes. I think he knew me cause he guided me back to the flat and helped get the trolley in for me. Not sure what we spoke about, but I think we did have a natter.
I made a brew of Glengettie Gold and sat down doing absolutely nothing, but fretting of course. Nodded off for ten minutes. Woke up in need of a wee-wee and felt so much better, then? Back-Pain-Brenda was the main pain-giver, but you can’t blame her after that little backwards tumble. Hahaha! I made another drink, and took a Cocodamal, then got on with updating this blog. I hadn’t really realised how late it was, although with all the palaver I should have expected it, the Evening Carer arrived.
It was Helen. After she’d done the medications, it was she who told me what a terrible day she’s been having. Bless her! When I related my day so far and showed Helen the photographs (I was still doing the blog updating when she arrived), She did laugh! Which was good cause it might have cheered her up a smidgeon, I hope.
I realised that I could not find the Warfarin card anywhere. Mmm? Mayhaps I dropped it when I collapsed on my rump? I went to check in the elevator cage. Nope!
Summat else to worry about now, Tsk! I got back in the front room and was going to do another search of the multi-pocketed jacket… when… I spotted it on the carpet underneath the computer cabinet.
I pressed on with this blog updating, and woe of woes, I got as far as I heard and realised it was almost midnight! I’d better get something to eat… ah, yes, the chilli and the crushed brochette, or whatever its name is, bread to me.
While doing the cooking, it was complicated for an old chap, like what I am. Some done in the crock-pot, chilli-con-carne on the saucepan on the hob, and wedges in the microwave, and as for all the cleaning up afterwards… Humph! Where was I?
Oh, yes, I took photographicalisations of the night sky.
Part Of The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woes – With Odes Series.
