Inchcocks Keeping Active Routine

In Excruciatingly Bad Ode

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TIPS and ADVICE

It is essential, from your every waking moment, daily,
To assess the ailments, for any possibly acting bolshy,
That gets the brain going, fretting, and panicking too!
On the physical side; don’t expect things with spectacularity,
More concentrate, on dogged hopes and sustainability,
At all times, anticipate and expect, constant impeachability!

No doubt the wee-wees will start then, with tenacity,
Sometimes persistent, more usually of aperiodically,
The first slash you take will be with a certain trepidity!
They’ll be blood, orange urine, this’ll confirm your panic ability!
Apply the Daktacort Hydrocortisone, you’ll scream!
To ease the agony, just think of it, as being a dream!
And count slowly to yourself, up to a thousand and thirteen!

You’ll get letters, forms, threats and emails from authorities,
Along with phone calls, texts, these are not abnormalities,
How much pension and total cash are in your bank?
They raised the total allowed, in reply I was frank!
An hour a week for shopping, laundry, will cost me £280 a week!
It’s best at this time, not to freak!

Nottingham Revenue and Benefits called me on the phone…
The 2½hr form-filling left me in an ether world zone!
My concentration had departed, off it had flown…
I thanked him, with a verbal groan!

He said he’d sent the paperwork to sign & return,
Of course, no help was given, I soon did learn,
Result in today, on a downer now, scowled and had a gurn!
Excuse me, off to for a wee-wee, I must adjourn…

Ah, I’ve made beef stew for later, my hunger does grow…
Hello, it’s already made… Carer due, Doctors tomorrow,
I’m still angry with myself, there is a self-pitying sorrow,
Life at the moment, is annoying, no zest… hollow!
It’s me that is annoying me… that what I’ll have to forego…
The secret costs of the carers costs rise… Oh, blow!

At times like this, try not to get neurotic,
You’ll only get worse if you get all frenetic!
Change your mood to romantic or quixotic,
Think of happy times, when life was sybaritic!

Of course, I write mostly conceptualistic,
You might try changing your mood to eucharistic?
Or change to using heliotrope coloured lipstick?
Cause it won’t help, people’ll think you’re a dipstick!
But a different set of worries, even anti-humanistic…
Maybe enough to stop your brain from going ballistic?

There’ll be daily Whoopsies, Accifauxpas and many a quarrel,
Several times daily, to be insulted, and get a bombshell,
At times these may overpower your one brain cell…
Not to worry, you’ll have forgotten your previous natter,
Diagnosed last week, I’m aneurysmatic, but it doesn’t matter,
You’ll have enough ailments in the body, no hopes to shatter!

Your hero may be Hawking, Newton, mine is Albert Einstein,
Whichever, it matters not, for you must worry not,
Peoples choices whatever they are, are fine…
Cause you’ll only forget tomorrow, and feel a clot!

Usual things to get Arthur Itis, and become annuhilistic,
And your Willy will shrink, change its colour to pink,
You need do nothing about these, they are automatic,
Oh, and you’ll leave the hot water tap running in the sink!
Of the young, you’ll become an inpatient critic!
Your loss of memory will make you forget to think!
You’ll lose your egoisticness, no longer be artistic,
You’ll find yourself on depressions very brink…
I’m only trying to help – just giving you the wink!

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There are times when one realizes that one had not got it right, forgotten something, missed something, lost something…

This is Perfectly Normal – Don’t Fret!

Ode to Maintaining One’s Sanity – Part Four or summat

In an odd mood this morning, folks, sorry, The early morning perkiness indicates me; Has done a bunk, I fear! Grugglebogness! Worries over the increase in carer fees, but my stepdaughter Jill (not really, but she ought to adopt me!), is helping me out again and investigating why I have been told I will be paying it from last Monday, but no one has told me how much it will be? I fret so easily nowadays. Hehe!

There was a time long ago, I w fascinated by Dennis Wheatley,
His character, Gregory Sallust, I thought was top quality,
Cunning, dedicated, loyal, brave with great chivalry,
I’d get back from the local hostelry,
After drinking and revelry…
Fall up or down the stairs accidentally,
Badly affected, alcoholically.

Working and drinking made my entire constellation,
For years, there was no guilt, and no contrition,
Boozing gave me a social connection…
I enjoyed it, beer and me had a cohabitation,
My taxes paid, drinking gave me no consternation!

Then one day, suddenly I decided out of the blue,
To stop my drinking ale, swearing never again to do!
The hardest thing I’d ever done, I can tell you!
I’ll not go into my suffering hullabaloo,
Never since have I drank plonk or used a corkscrew!

Now, so many years later, life is barren…
Of so-called friends, all abandoned me again,
Now I am an aged, sickly doyen…
Miserable, grumpy, but clean-shaven,
Clean-shaven? Why was that written?
I always wanted to be a Tibicen,
A flutist, but that’s probably not relevant,
I’m wandering here a bit, having a vent,

Not a vent… Erm… having a mental orbit!
Feeling a bit of a twit,
Misspellings lost words, things miswriting…
I’m losing it again, Gawdamit!

My confidence is getting titchier,
My mood is definitely schmaltzier,
My trips to the Throne frequenter
My Gawd, that’s four times this morning…
What is happening?
Each visit gets messier!
Stomach aching and is paunchier!
The passing of wind is getting noisier,
Evacuated product is meatier!
Every frequent wee-wee grows oozier!
It’s a good job that I’m no longer boozier!

It’s the memory that confuses me most,
I try, and I’ve not yet given up the ghost,
The brain nowadays is a far outpost…
Gives me access once or twice daily, at most!
But still, I remain chatty and verbose…
Seeking peace and inner glasnost,
And the ability to do my blogpost!

The Carers come twice a day; most are congenial,
Show patience, as I get confused, me being demential,
Some take my rubbish to the bin, others are contractual,
The good ones outweigh the not so good; it’s factual!
I usually get the shakes and a wobble…
Some chinwag, they go to that trouble,
This leaves me in a contentment bubble!

I like to think that I am still trainable,
But memory loss is always unavoidable,
Although, day to day it can be changeable,
That’s when I can get feeling unamiable…
And, I believe there is only me blameable,
Guilt can make contentment unavailable,
Thinking at times that I should be throttleable,
Then a kind act is given, and I get the unattainable,
And life is temporarily less circumscriptible,
Then no longer think I’m gullible or sulliable!

Some mornings I seem to transmogrify…
One leg fluid-filled, ‘tother thin, don’t know why?
Then there is Saccade Sandra, in my right eye,
My spectacles, the optician has to rectify,
He’s a snotty bloke, but at least I know why…
Last time I visited their pig-sty,
I warned the Lady of Peripheral Neuropathy, why?
Cause I’d had it bad, arm and leg shaking, me oh my!
The arm shot out, making her test lenses fly…
Her stare said she wanted me to painfully die!
The ladies hatred, I could not nullify!
So, going there again could make me cry!

This mornings carer, not ringing the bell, an oversight?
No, she never does; I didn’t hear her, her voice is light,
Crept up behind me, didn’t half give me a flipping fright!
Did she say good morning? Well, she well might…
But I didn’t hear her in the dark light.

“Sit down!” she suddenly boomed out,
Sticking her finger out towards the chair,
I took the medications, with trepidation about…
But I didn’t sit in the chair, to be fair…
I thought she wanted to give me a clout!
I chatted about it being so dark,
She was not ready for chin-waggings remarks,
Yet departed, happy as a lark?

Depression began to activate…
I found it hard to concentrate,
The Porcelain Throne was again much used,
Messy, tacky, splashes and floused…
The Throne today is much overused!
At last, it was done and cleaned. I did vacate…
Leaving the hot tap running, I did not appreciate!
No chance of a shave and shower now, mate!
I was disoriented, irritable, not focused,
In a massive fed-upperdness, I was circumfused,
I need to get myself refocused
Sod-it! Back to the Porcelain Throne, I had to navigate!

This below is the wet room, which contains the much overused Porcelain Throne. Today, I discovered that it includes 242 wall tiles, 54 cracks in the floor, and 78 on the ceiling. Which also has 14 lumps and a damp patch. The cross wording did not go well; two clues were solved in a total time on the book of three hours.

The most used room of the day!

Part of the Inchcock’s Make ‘Em Laugh Series

A Long Hobble to the Doctors – Guess who forgot to take his camera?

I had rather hoped that the last few days, nonsensical mishaps, clangers, errors, Whoopsiedangleplops, Accifauxpas, and the accompanying misery they brought; would be bound to lessen, and albeit an imitation joy would return to the Nottingham Lad. Peace would burst out, and joy would reign…

But, No! Although the morning started well, yes, really. Within minutes of waking up, the wee-weeing were on the move again, and that gave me confidence… well, the hope, that the Doctors Visit would go well, and bladder-bother-wise, there would be no embarrassing moments. The bit I was getting a smidgeon excited about was getting out and taking some photos on my hobble to the surgery. It’s been so long since I saw, I mean walked outside the flats.

My main concerns were forgetting to take the camera and not leaving anything on that should not be in the apartment. Cockily…

I thought it would be wise to get the camera into the coat pocket now, along with the bus pass for the return journey as soon as I got my ever-increasing in volume flabby flobby stomached body, from the c1968,  £300, second-hand, c1968, horrendously grungy coloured, eyesore of a haemorrhoid-testing, unfit-for-use, recliner.

Whistling to myself! Yes, I was feeling a little cocky!

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I took a snap of the tootsies; they were not looking too bad at all this morning.

Rose up, caught my balance, and responded to the demand from Bladder-Boris, and took a wee-wee, a pain-free one too!. Things had started well!

Took the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee Bucket), emptied, cleaned and sanitised it, then went to the kitchenette and got some potatoes in the slow cooker. While the kettle was heating up, I took a snap of the view… the sky had an odd hue to it?

Made a mug of Glenettie, and started on updating yesterday’s blog for an hour or two, then went to make another brew, Thompsons Punjana this time, and got involved in washing the thick jumper in the sink.

Got it washed, rinsed, wrung and hung above the sink to drip dry.

The brain engaged, and I remembered to put the camera into the jacket pocket. I even remembered that I had to wear clothes that gave the nurse easy access to my arm… Yes, the letter from the surgery told me to! Humph! Anyway, my being nervous about intimidating Fog-Horn Nurse, I worked out how to oblige. When I get the ablutions done, I’ll wear my sleeveless jacket next to the skin and a thick cardigan over it, so I can easily give the Obergrüppenfureress nurse no delay. Not that I’m scared of her or anything like that… but I am. Hehe!

The Carer arrived a little late, not that it mattered, I have time to get everyone done for going out, the appointment isn’t until midday. It was Carer Richard who came; I was his last call. He’s been called in. Another carer didn’t turn up.

This suited me down to the ground cause being the final call, he had time for a natter with me. Mostly mutual moans over the NHS and Doctors in particular, with some fantastic tales Richard related. I thought at first that our laughing might disturb Herbert in the flat above… which made me even happier at the thought of the noisy, arrogant, taciturn, aloof Herbert being disturbed by my noise for once. Not that I have anything against the antisocial, evasive, uncongenial, phlegmatic, pococurante, gentleman, of course. (I lie well sometimes!)

After Richard left, taking some bags to the chute for me on his way, I got the blog updating finished, then did a little Facebooking. Time to get the ablutions done. Long gone are when I would make sure I’d got half-an-hour to get the ablutions done; it’s an hour nowadays needed. Everything went tremendously smoothly… well, all bar the shaving bit. I’m still confused over this hair-raising anomaly… Hehe!

How come the hair still grows behind my earholes and nowhere else? Hehehe!

I took the Canon camera from the coat pocket to record this little Accifauxpa, then rushed it back to the jacket, and I finished showering and medicationing. Got on the planned attire… Which must have made me look bloody awful. A well-stretched woolly jumper, with a multi-pocketed jacket and no shirt on underneath, which left part of my chest open to the elements, lumpy… but it was warm for me, once I got outside and on my journey. Which you will read, was delayed…

I got the bags checked, nibbles for the Doctors surgery staff, and Deana & Julie, off I went down in an elevator.

THE ELEVATOR SCARE!

It genuinely frit me when I got in the cage with the trolley, and the lift began to move, and loud creaking noises could be heard! And when the brake was applied at the ground floor, a screeching was heard! I thought maybe it was because I had the hearing aids in and new batteries? I was going to call on Deana’s office and would mention it to her. I hobbled through the link passage and through to the office – but no one was in! Natalie from the Care Team came in, and we had a minute chinwagging, and I forgot all about the lift! Hey-ho!

WHOOPSIEDANGLEPLOP!

As I reached the end of the road, to turn right down Winchester Street, so many photographicalisationing opportunities were on view. The new flats being built, cars parked right up on the pavement that I had to walk on the road to pass. The git in a BMW who papped at me… all were begging to be photographed… But No! Who had put the wrong multi-pocketed jacket on, with the camera now in the other jacket pocket? With the cash! Yes, it’s not a tricky question, is it! And I wanted to do some shopping at Lidl and Wilko as well. I calmly spat, swore venomously, stubbed my toe on the trolley wheel, spat and cursed again, and just carried on – hoping I could remember the pin number if I ever got to a shop. I may have cried a little too?

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I’ll try to make the rest of the journey in Ode, but it might not be terrific…

Further down the street, I got almost angry,
Double glazers blocked the footpath again!
I felt bitter and almost insurrectionary,
Back into the road to pass, and then…
Another pap-pap from a driver, an obscenity!
I felt like going and having tea in the kitchen,
Where the hell’s the local Constabulary?

Down and onto Mansfield Road I did turn,
A bloke on a mobility scooter gave me a gurn,
Looked like he’s just left a pub or tavern!
Manners and respect he never learned?

Up towards Carrington, having lost my earlier swank,
I’d forgotten the tenners to swap at the bank!
An Escooter from behind with a clank,
My hopes and respect for humanity sank

Top of the hill, I was tired and feeling a bit queer,
The back was hurting, Anne Gyna too, oh, dear!
After a few minutes, I felt a little chirpier,
On to the surgery, my walking getting wonkier…
Ten minutes to go, not admitted any earlier,
Did a puzzle, thoughts of the nurse were scarier…

Got in to see the nurse, things got zanier,
She sounded as if she was a little friendlier,
“You’ve not bared your arm like we told yer!
She tore at the jumper, she felt uneasier,
When the bare flesh of my arm teased her!
Her bullying attitude got weaker…
But I was unhappier, a proved wrong nurse…
There is nothing much worse…
Embarrassed, I resisted a curse…
Turning to leave, I ricked Back Pain Brenda!
Although it hurt and was very tender…
I got out without any more verbals; things got rosier!
Off to the Lidl store, I did scamper!

Once in the store, I was happier here…
Food all around me cost no barrier…
Escaping the nurse, was summat to revere,
Food shopping, something I hold dear!
With the Carers costs, I should be austere?
But its food, I gave a silent chanticleer!

Although eating can make me podgier, please,
They had in stock of tomatoes, and garden peas,
I got yoghourt, and other things with these,
But I resisted getting any more Derby cheese…
Strong cheddar and apples together, please!

I got out shopping, what a wheeze!

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BUSES BACK TO THE FLATS

I caught a 57 bus to Sherwood, and I rather sillily and expensively went into the Wiko store. They had got some 500ml Zoflora Lemon Zing disinfectant back in stock – Well, that did it! I got three bottles, I’m afraid they were £4 each, Ahem!

It is the only disinfectant strong enough for me to use in the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket). I also use it in the event of any Accifauxpas with the bladder or bowel movements. Really worth the extra. If I do have any leaks, the PPs Protection Pants can help, but on the odd occasion, splashes when wee-weeing have been known to spray back and over the carpet or floor. Again this product comes into its own. I leave any clothes soaking in Zoflora and washing soda, or even Citric Acid capsules if I have any in stock, overnight usually, before washing them. A little tip there. Haha!

I got the things bought put away. The Lidl smoked ham off-cuts were far superior to those I had to throw away from the Co-op: they were almost just pork crumbs. And they only had a one-day eat-before date on them. Their beef pasties only had two days of life! I intend to eat those tonight; that was the plan. But I’ve spent so long doing this blog update, it is already gone 01:30hrs! Harrumph!

The Carer came late again, Carole, no not Carole, I’ve forgotten her name now. Tsk! She was not talkative, although it was her last visit. She was so tired but sociable enough without actually proper talking if that makes sense. Still, a can of Gin later, and she was a bit cheerier, bless her. ♥

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Took these shots of the evening sunset.

Then, I noticed a chap or woman down in the end car park area. To all intents and purposes, it looked like he/she had taken a body out of the back of the vehicle. And was hitting it with a stick. I hope not!

Ah, well, must get summat to eat and my head down.

Impute-Inchy, Friday 5th March 2021, Diary

A Touch of Class, from TFZer Nancy!

22:40hrs: I shot awake, with the thoughts of getting at least some advance templates done: For some reason, it was my day’s commitment, mission and incumbency! A resolution, willpower or even a dedication that has been scarce these last few months. Somehow, and I know not how – I knew I was going to get them done. Equally worrying was that I knew it was not going to be easy!

I even lay there on the recliner a while, planning a different way of setting them up that might save me some time. Fair enough, it didn’t work and cost me even more time… But. the fact that I thought about it, and tried, is the genuinely galvanising part.

But, first things first, a visit to the Porcelain Throne was needed. I manoeuvered my way out of the recliner, bit by bit, with comparative ease as well, caught my balance, and off to the wet room.

Well, this was an unexpected ding-dong of an evacuation. But it made a change. And for some reason or other, I was in a bit of a good mood with things at the time. Yes, it worried me as well! The same as yesterday, things took their time to start, and I got the crossword book out – another improvement here, I got one clue answered. Sad innit? One solution in three days and five Throne sessions! Tsk!

Once the movement began, it was one of the slowest I’ve ever coped with. And with so little evacuating as well. But Constipation Konrad was continuing his comeback, I think. Still, it was far less messy to clean things up afterwards! Mind you, the flaming cistern wasn’t coping with even such a minimal part-wet deposit! Several refills of the tank and many flushes later, I’d got it cleaned up, though!

I took the missed evening medications, and I did the Health Checks. Still, with an absolute determination to get the Templates done, there seemed no wavering on my behalf (Hard to believe, even for me!) I did the body temperature first on the easy-to-use Chinese, made in Hong Kong, contactless thermometer. Best reading for a few days methinks at 37.1°c The Chinese made Boot’s sphygmomanometer proffered the best readings for a while as well! SYS 148, DIA 68, and the PULSE at 88 bpm! The chart is looking like it’s improving somewhat as well. Temperature back in the green at long last!

A made a drink of Glengettie tea. It’s so lovely that the taste-buds are beginning to work again. Dang-nabbed AstraSeneka vaccine side-effects! Grrr!

I dedicated my time to getting the templates done and persisted for many hours before needing another Porcelain Throne visit. It replicated the first trip, but the tank actually took everything evacuated away, with just two flushes! I noted that the wrist alert bans had been trying to strangle me again! Hehe!

I returned to the computer and updated the Thursday blog. Not a lot needed doing. Emailed the link, Pinterested a few snaps, passed wind violently and started coughing something awful, and kept on doing so for a long time? Visited the WordPress Reader section and then onto Facebooking catch-up. I read and replied to the WP comments. A good came in today; that was nice.

Just before eight o’clock (Ten hours of Computing!) I’d got the templates finished! Yee-Haa! But no time for self-praising. For the ablutions had to be done, he would help me with sorting out the newly fire-proofed cupboard if the worker chap returns. And I need to get the waste bags to the chute and medical bottles to the recycling bin downstairs.

As I got into the wet room, I noticed blood on the jumper in the chest area? Hello, what’s this then? I asked myself. Well, you would, wouldn’t you? I discovered a cold or on the lip had caused the problem. Makes a change, Hahaha!

  • I dried up the leak with a kitchen towel.
  • Did teeth, and the split tooth started bleeding, so I had to dry that up, too. Only the one dropsy, mind!
  • Only three dropsies shaving. Two little nicks bled a bit, but nothing serious.
  • The nasal clearing went well, one dropsy!
  • The showering was started. But it became a smidge farcical! There cameth a landline phone call, that at first, I thought was coming for the radio show, ‘The Men from the Ministry’ on Radio Four Extra. By the time I realised this was not the case, and got my cold, coughing body out and to the telephone – it had stopped ringing!
  • Back into the shower, clouting my right shoulder on the door frame. Wich started SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley) off, as well as BPB (Back-P{ain-Brenda) too!
  • So, coughing, sneezing, and in pain, I resumed the showering.
  • Repeated dropsies of the shower-gel bottle later, the telephone rang again! Now, I was getting a smidge annoyed!
  • Out of the warm shower, the landline stopped again before I could get to it! Grangleplops!
  • Back yet again to the showering, at least I got around this time without any injuries!
  • But Expuslivications! Only Neopathic Pete launched into one of his adventitious right leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dances! A short but brutal flailing performance and I just don’t know how I stayed upright, but I did!
  • I was cold again, coughing, and Cathy Cartilage joined in! Gadzooks, Crockledimdogs! and Gnatwrangles!
  • Guess What? The bloody landline rang again!
  • This time, with the pain, shivering, and in particular, the knee, I didn’t even get all the way out of the wet-room before the phone stopped!

The washed yesterday diabetic bamboo socks had definitely shrunk! Humph! Oh, and the fluid retention seemed to be getting worse today? Am I bovvered? Nope!

I should have been a physical and mental wreck by the time I got out of the wet-room. But, No! All the Accifauxpas, Whoopsidenagleplops and injuries, bad luck, etc. Still, I was singing away to myself as I shivered. The cold sore opened up again, the coughing started one more, and Cathy Cartilage was getting worse by the minute… But was I bothered? No! As I was getting soap powder and handwashing, I pondered why I felt so uncaring, take-it-as-it-comes? An atypical abnormality, even an illusoriness confused, baffled me. But I was not going to let anything to get me down. Why? Something like this would usually get me all hot & bothered, but not today, Josephine?

I simply pressed on with the hand washing and got the heavy long-sleeve jumper, the bamboo socks and pyjamas bottoms all washed, wrung, hung and done! I used Surf Soap powder this time, it smells as good as the liquid one, and things seemed to clean up alright.

Then, I got the waste bags made up, added them to the walker-guide trolley box, and put the recycling glass into a carrier bag to take down outside to the green bin after using the waste chute.

As I got to the door, a much-dreaded letter had been posted, so I investigated. Huh! The Water Rates going up again now! Another integral part of the Government and utilities claw-back campaign to pay for the Covid-19? So, if I remember right, suddenly starting last week, I’ve had notifications of increases in costs for; EE Mobile, Liberty-Global Virgin Media, Internet; the rent and service charges are going up. British Gas has gone through the roof, the Bank has reduced my interest from 3% down to 1.5%, and the free bus service has been removed. I’m sure there is something else that I can’t remember! Yet, even this news of more costs did not get me down??? I wonder if I’ve died and no one has told me?

I struggled but got the walker out of the door and went along the lift foyer to the waste-room.

Aha! A new poster on the side of the lifts. Water Supply Interruption, no sorry, disruption. It’s for Friday 19th 2021, between 08:00hrs > 17:00hrs. I’m assuming it is for March, as the 19th is a Friday?  Onwards I plodded, no longer singing now, to the chute, but I was coughing better… Haha! I got the six bags down the tube and returned and got a lift down the bin outside. It was a little dim and grim in the ground floor lobby?

Down in the elevator and out to the bin. Handed the bottles to caretaker Stephen… Whoops, I mean, Robert!

And back up in the lift. In the lift lobby on my twelfth-floor, I noticed that the Art Deco all at our end of the hall had now been painted over, the same as all the other ones! I’ve put a photo from last week under this mornings, to remind you of the how pretty it was, but not for long.

Do you agree that the patchy art deco was different? It was growing on me each time I saw it, but no longer, now we share a bare baron wall, along with all the other floors. Tsk!

I got in the three flats lobby, Horse-Betting Addicted Malcolm, near lets, Forgetful Josie far left, and demented Inchcock far right.

Got the trolley indoors, and it was getting late for me, and the weariness was dawning. But, I needed to start this diary and get it finished if possible, or mostly anyway.

So, I pressed on, but the zest was dwindling as time passed by.

Blimey, it was suddenly ten to five at night! Boy, oh, boy, that’s about 18 hours I’ve been up and about! As I checked with my watch, I found that whatever is causing it, the wrist bands, soap powder, I don’t know, the Clopidogrel returning, maybe? But the bits of whatever on the arm were bleeding again. Mayhaps the Warfarin has gone too high? That may account for the lip bleeding so badly earlier? Mmm!

I stayed awake long enough to make an order for Morrisons, on Amazon, for tomorrow A.M.

I gave up on computing and got some sarnies made up for the meal. A dagwood imitation on bread thins, with ham and tomatoes, with mini pork pies and chilli chicken and a bit of Marmite cheese.

Apart from the terribly tasteless bread thins, the disappointing Anchor butter, the dry pies, the wet bland chicken, soft tomatoes, the Marmite cheese disc was tasty! Oh, and the lemon yoghourt was curdling a bit. Overall flavour rating, a barely deserved 3⅜/10! Gawd, it was lousy! 

Of course, I settled far too late to watch the Tales of the Unexpected. I put on a Heartbeat DVD, but in my state, I didn’t even get through five minutes of it and drifted off into a terrible (well, there were some good bits) dream-filled, disturbed slumber. I seem to keep waking and remembering bits, some that involved activities I can no longer perform but used to enjoy… then nod off dream again, and wake to ponder over what I’d been dreaming of! For some reason, I did not write anything on the notepad?

Ah, well!

Inchie’s Lockdown Escape Advice (To four holiday locations in a day) Oh, Yes!

Can one cope with the lockdown, and still get vacationing done?

The piccies and odes below, show how Inchcock managed this fete, feet, feat!

I started my wondering, my holiday,

The junk room I was in, so I did stay,

Watched video, although no BluRay,

I viewed episodes, of Red Dwarf and Stingray,

Had nibble of yoghourt, strawberry,

By gum it was nice, to escape as they say!

My next vacation, to the kitchen, it was untidy,

Washed my socks and blue beret,

I was content, not uptight or snidey,

In fact, I was moving well, not torpidly,

I was relaxed, my mind working unhurriedly,

So I left the messy scullery,

Then went on a tour of the balcony!

The windows let in the ice-like rain,

Leaving me wet, cold and  unhappy again,

Although stubbing my toe was a pain,

But this trip out wasn’t mundane,

The bleeding left me with a bloodstain,

My slippers’ll have to be cleaned again,

But my sense of humour I did retain,

Porcelain Throne, needed, that I must not retain,

I hope it passes easily and is not a painful strain!

My most used and popular room of them all,

A place where I’ve had many a fall,

Accifaupas, Whoopsiedangleplops I have in there,

Well above my fair-share,

The wet room, always something to hurt, scare or enthral

Good stuff too, to be fair,

Sometimes on the Throne, I see passings in freefall,

Others, with blockages, nothing moves, at all,

Yes, the seat seems to get heavy wear,

At times in there, there’s little fresh air,

Bleach & disinfectant I do share,

It’s a losing battle, but do I care?

Sometimes, I think I must be bilingual,

Frustrated, my language can be, erm… individual,

Naughty words used, I do declare,

When the flush doesn’t work, despair!

No wonder I’ve got no hair!

Then there’s the Sock-Glide in there,

Gives me many a nightmare,

It nips, pinches finger-ends, traps your finger hair,

Blood flows using it’s unfair,

It drives me, nearly nuclear…

””””””””””””

I had planned to visit the ground floor,

But the situation down there was desperate for sure,

Trying to find a way out, I stubbed my toe,

Perhaps later, I’ll give it another go?

Still, I mustn’t complain, though!

Written on the spur of the moment, I apologise!

Inchcock – Frid 30 Oct 20: Early start, hectic day, but got my head down earlier than usual. (Bliss!)

The TFZer Show – Tickets from $600

Friday 30th October 2020

Scots Gaelic: Dihaoine 30 Dàmhair 2020

01:00hrs: Got up, wee-wee, wash, cuppa tea, Throne (Messy, but quick and mot so painful)

Thought: Appointments today: City Cardiac, then CDH Checks, then Flu-Jab. Must get the computing done as early as possible.

Got the Health Checks done. Bottled the urine samples ready for the hospital and doctors.

Computerised, template created, photos downloaded and prepped for publication.

Got the Thursday blogs finished and posted off.

Pinterested, Emai link sent, Facebooking updated.

WP and Facebook Comments read and answered.

WordPress reader section visited.

SisterJane rang. Pete was feeling a little better, thank heavens. Anf, Jane’s eye still had no vision. We are a set!

She’d seen my Warden Deana on the BBC 1 News and told me to put it on, so I could take some photos of it. It will come on again. We had a natter and laugh, and that was great!

But with the Doctors, Hospital things to sort out, and trying to get some blogging done, I couldn’t really concentrate.

No time to do owt on this blog at all. And needed to get the ablutions done, then get the things needed to take with me sorted out.

Got the first sample, and it was coloured like level 5-6. Which was much better now, got it in the three-wheeler walker guide bag, so as not to forget it!

The ablutions were done next. The mind was confused with so much detail to go through. The Ablutionalisationing is almost a blur, so much did I rush, and with my mind on so many things at the same time.

Jane rang back, and they will try to get some photos if Deana comes back on the BBC, for me. Bless em! That was good of them. I hope she can get some.

I found a letter on the floor near the door, only Sainsbury offering money off vouchers, but only if I spend £60! Oh, Goodie! Makes a change from crushed cakes and lousy silly substitutes, I suppose.

I got some breakfast. Marmite bread thins, potatoes from last night, and Frazzles with a mug of Glengettie tea! And most enjoyable it was too! As my Dad used to say: “It went down a reet treat, that did!”

I got some hand washing done, wrung and hung. Only one Zip-up jacket, and left it drip-dry at its leisure, on a coathanger above the kitchen sink.

I tried to get my head together and make sure I’d got everything needed for the medicalisational visits. Then the bus-pass, keys, cash, etcetera.

I didn’t feel too confident, and had a nagging feeling that I’d forgotten something or other! Which I suppose would not be anything new. Hehe!

I got the trolley, with the nibble-treats for the Hospital and Surgery staff, and set out, feeling apprehensive, and not knowing why I felt that way.

I turned and figuratively, waved farewell to the flats at the end of the road.

The hobble down Winchester Street was a hard, nervous-making experience. I’d forgot about the brakes being useless on the three-wheeler, and had to take my time and extra care not to topple it over. I stayed on the right-hand side pavement going down, to avoid having to walk in the road again to get by, for I had spotted a lorry in the distance parked on the pavement, Swine!

Not that the men had any alternative, really than to park there, they were in a sort of, mission impossible situation.

I walked up the Mansfield Road hill and stopped to check on the timing.

I was in plenty of time to get to the first appointment without any rushing. I had an hour before I needed to be there, so took my time and tried to take in the scenery, even though it was a bit bleak at times.

Near the hospital, on the ring road, a Pavement Motorist was spotted, for a change.

I crossed over at the Pelican lights and was soon entering the DVT Antigoagulation Unit. Where I registered and was taken straight into the treatment room.

(Well, they probably considered me an important, powerful, dynamic, wealthy patient, who was due the best care and not to be kept waiting… A Smug-Mode of ginormous proportions came over me) Hehehe!

I was soon on and attached to the machine, and within minutes, while the Q&A session was done, I was on my way out again! No obvious problems they said, an analysed result report will be sent to me. I thanked them and handed over some plonk in thanks.

I caught the bus, intending to stay on it into Carrington, and the Doctor’s surgery. Good planning, or what? On the way out, I walked to the Stroke Ward I was in, to leave them some nibbles and treats in thanks.

But, they were that busy. I decided it was best not to intrude. called to. From what I saw, they had just had a new patient come in.

 : The bus arrived within minutes of my getting to the bus stop (It’s going too well, I thought – Little knowing what lie ahead!) I got on the bus and decided to have a ferret around in the bag, to check that I’d got everything needed for the surgery visit. Concentrating on this, as the bus neared the stop I’d usually get off at in Sherwood, I panicked thinking I would miss the stop, rang the bell, and the driver waited patiently for me to struggle and get off? Bless him!

When got on the pavement is when it dawned on me… I’d got off at the wrong stop!   ‘Whatta a Plonka!’ Oy, oy, oy! I decided, as there was still bags of time available for me, I’d walk into Carrington, maybe even go in Lidl to see what they had on offer. It was very leisurely, and I was not too annoyed with myself – I’ve come to almost expect such calamities nowadays. Tsk!

I set of at a steady-hobble, no need to overdo it, still bags of time to get there punctually. Sherwood looked so barren this morning, with more retailers than ever closed down again, it’s so sad. All those people with their dreams shattered! Humph!

I’d not gone far, and Pavement Cyclist came from behind me, I smelt his B.O. as he passed me by. It’s not as if there was a lot of traffic for him to be scared off, on the Mansfield Road. I noticed he had the bike in the lowest gear, his legs were going like the clappers, but he was not getting anywhere fast. (A Sherlock Holmisianism moment, there) Hehehe!

I crossed over to the other side at the Pelican lights, over the hill and down int Carrington towards the church. It was still looking glum.

A bit further down the hill, and another Pavement Cyclist appeared. This one was more determined to ignore or injure any pedestrians than the previous one, and really did come close to hitting me, and the ladies further on. Git!

There was still time to spare, so I visited the Lidl store. Got some bits, and paid on the self-serve tills, no idea what I was doing wrong, but an assistant came to me on each of five times I did something wrong, and muttered something to me, and put it right. I didn’t realise I’d bought so much stuff, and had to stop on my way out, and rearrange things in the trolley, and make up another bag to hang on the handlebars. This took me a while to do, and I realised

I had to get a nip on to get to the surgery in time for the appointment, so I did!

I hastened to the surgery; thus, I was in a bit of a state when I arrived. They have now got an intercom system for us to use, which is not good when because of the mask-wearing, I can’t use the hearing aids when out and about. I’ve no idea what the lady was saying, but she let me in eventually. She thought I looked poorly and told me to take a seat, one of the only two seats now, in the waiting room. It was the late rushing to get there that had caused my laboured breathing. 

I was soon being called into the treatment room by the new surgery nurse. A most pleasant blood pressure, temperature, pulse, weighing, measuring, recording, and questions and answer session took place. During which, Doctor Vindla came in and gave me my Flue-Jab. Lovely to see them all again. I was leaving and Nurse… (Oh, dear, the phlebotomy nurse, I’ve not seen her for that long, I’m, ashamed to say I’ve forgotten her name. lovely lady too! Caroline was it? I bet Tim Price will remember for me?), came to chat for a few seconds. I handed the giant bottle of Perry for them all to share at Christmas, and sadly, I had to leave, by the front door now, as part of the Anti-Corona rules. Ah, Gorrit, I think, it was Nurse Nichole! ♥

I was weary but happy enough as I wobbled along Mansfield Road with the trolley, up and over the hill. (Travailing with the well-filled heavy trolley, which will be fun getting onto and off of the bus when I get to Sherwood, Tsk!)

As I was getting to Spondon Street, another ignorant, nasty, anti-social, objectional, offensive, law-breaking, seditious, thoughtless, inconsiderate, mannerless, yob, scumbag of a Pavement Cyclist belted by me, making my jump, he was so close! Grrr!

But it didn’t bother me.

But, as I went up the hill to the bus stop, another ignorant, nasty, anti-social, objectional, offensive, law-breaking, seditious, thoughtless, inconsiderate, mannerless, yob, scumbag of a loutish young Pavement Cyclist, was doing wheelies on the wide pavement?!?! I had to go around him to get into the Wilko store for my bleach! Grobleknackerbangles!

I paid and heaved my body and trolley up to the bus stop. The distant skies did not bode well at all. Incidentally, while I was waiting for the bus, three cars went through the traffic lights on red. Tsk! I suppose they know that those traffic-light cameras do not have any film in them?

I took a photo to the left, down the hill before the number 40 bus arrived. The driver getting a smidge annoyed as I struggled to get on the bus, and then to get sat down where I could hold onto the trolley. But it couldn’t be helped. Sorry, driver!

I was son back up Winchester Street and alighting the bus. Two residents to get off, I went first, and I’d like to mention that I did so without any Accifauxpas, injury or damage! And, I assisted the chap from my block behind me, to alight the bus with his trolley. Mega-Smug-Mode-Adopted!

We walked to the end of the road and got inside the Woodthorpe lobby and to the lifts. I got in and invited the chap to join me, which he appreciated, he looked as done-in as I felt, bless him. He had to get out, to let me out of the lift, I didn’t realise he loved on the 4th floor. Still, we managed a laugh about it. I fumbled about getting the trolley in, with its extra weight and bags, and into the corner.

I soon realised that my original plans to get the updating done of this diary were not going to happen. I was jiggered, exhausted in body and mind! My new plan; was to get something to eat, wash, and head-down, even though it was still early, even for me to seek sleep.

As I got into the kitchen with the purchases from Lidl and Wilko, I spotted what looked like a fire in the far distance.

I got the camera from my jacket pocket and took this picture. Then got the bags opened and sorted the things needed for the meal I’d planned on the bus, earlier. The Potato Rosti was a must-have, even though I left some new pots cooking in the crock-pot. I could taste it before I’d got it in the oven. Took some grapes, an apple, tomatoes and washed them, for slipping on the plate.

I made the feast up and got it served n the tray. But made far too much for me, in my tired state of health; however, the potato rostis, grapes, some of the tomatoes and potatoes were eaten. A Taste-Rating of 7/10 given, it was just me being so tired.

I was happily amidst feasting, and the door-chimes rang out. I put the food tray on the chair, and fought my way out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly beige-coloured, unkempt, fluctuant, ramshackle, broken-down, uncomfortable, dusty, rusty, decaying, tatterdemalion, heavy yet tottery, rickety recliner, and off to investigate who my caller was.

Aha! My visitor had been my patron saint Jenny, from the 8th floor. Who had kindly left me some yellow tomatoes, a big bag too! She does look after me! ♥

Then I got settled back in the c1968 recliner, it was nippy in here tonight, so I used a heavier quilt. Put theTV on, but I didn’t need the TV, or anything of a somnifacient nature, for the Sweet Morpheus, enwrapped herself around my body and brain within a few minutes – and it was good! I believe I was dreaming of being asleep in my sleep?

I put the tom’s in the fridge, and got my ponderously pot-bellied, portly-paunch placed back onto the recliner; grabbed the tray of food, got my legs up on the chair, and was just about to restart noshing it, and the Landline burst forth and flashed!

So, I put the food tray on the chair, and fought my way out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly beige-coloured, unkempt, fluctuant, ramshackle, broken-down, uncomfortable, dusty, rusty, decaying, tatterdemalion, heavy yet tottery, rickety recliner, got the stick, and off to answer the phone.

It was my Alma Mater, Jenny. She told me of how she managed to get some yellow tomatoes for me again, and we had a chinwag with laughs for a while. I was a smidge out-out-it and didn’t write down what else was talked about, so I must find out if anything was arranged or agreed upon tomorrow. We bade each other a fond-farewells, and I think (hope) I thanked her again for the tomatoes ♥.

I returned to the rickety recliner, to have another go at eating the meal. But couldn’t each much more, and was back to wide-awake mode. However, what I did eat was more than enough for what I needed, so is a blessing in disguise, and stopped me gobbling too much. Hahaha!

I washed the pots and took a snap of the threatening skies.

Took the evening medications, cause I forgot earlier with flailing so early.

I realised that my being out and about so long, I’d missed taking two of the Dioctyl® stool softeners. Uncertain whether to take three now or just the one, I veered on the safe side, and just took the one. (A choice that I much-regretted in the mornings’ Porcelain Throne session – Rock-solid again, Argh!)

Inchcock’s Mansfield Road, Sherwood, Pictorial History

I do hope you enjoy this bit of Nottingham history.

Please let me start with a sad point, the end of the much-loved Metropole Cinema, (Remember the open log fire?), and the business ventures that followed and failed.

Regrettably, I could not find a decent photo of the Metropole in its glory days.

Located in the Sherwood district of Nottingham at the top of the hill on Mansfield Road at the corner of Elmswood Gardens. The Metropole Cinema was an outstanding suburban cinema. It opened on 3rd August 1937 with Fred McMurray in “Champagne Waltz” and Marsha Hunt in “Accused Finger”.

A striking feature of the exterior was a slender fin tower on the left of the building which had the name ‘Metropole’ across the top. This could be seen for miles around. Inside the auditorium, seating was provided in stalls and circle areas. The proscenium was 60 feet wide, and the stage 18 feet deep. For a while, they had an open fire in the reception hall, and this was much appreciated by many in winter.

Initially, it was independently operated by W. Wooley & T. Wright, who ran the Goldsmith Street Cinema. The Metropole Cinema was taken over by the Associated British Cinemas(ABC) chain in 1943. Closed by ABC on 27th October 1973 with Malcolm McDowell in “O Lucky Man”. It was leased to the Star Cinemas chain who converted it into a Star Bingo Club. Closed as an EMI Bingo Club in 1979. Then the interior was stripped out, and it was converted into a supermarket. Last used as a Kwik Save Supermarket, it was closed around 2004, and the building was demolished in 2006. A Somerfield supermarket was built on the site. Later a failed Co-operative Food Store. Now, it is a 24-hour gym.

I use it myself three or four times a week, you know. Only for three hours a visit. Hahaha!

The earliest photo to be found was of a Horse Tram, on an outbound journey, about to pass Devon Drive, and the then called, the Methodist Chapel.

c1920, oh, how life must have been then. The electric trams were kings of transport. Just look at the motorbike! Kids strolling across the road.

Ah, now we are talking. Note how the rain always look more foreboding in a black and white photograph? The housewives make time for a natter, and no doubt to bemoan the rationing still on so many foods? The Marsdens food stores were the tops then. I worked for them when I left school at 14. The best job I’ve ever had! Happy times.

Opposite where the library is now, I think anyway.

The Robin Hood Hotel. I frequented this pub years later, for the company, certainly not for the taste of their Home Brewery beer. Eugh! Haha!

Ah, the Vauxhalls, Austins, Hillman, Wolseley’s, and Morris vehicles. All gone now, I’m afraid! Look at the sensible clothing worn, the ambling pedestrians, and lack of street-sleepers and hooded youths. All changed nowadays, not always for the better!

Fine Fare Food Supermarket, late Wilko moved from over the other side of the road. The excellent sell anything Fords clothing shop. The Regent five buses. Ah, sad!

A relative newcomer to our roads, the Mini! The Bass Beer sign? No double yellow lines! The broken crossing beacon! And the general gloom, that’s back with is again, only worse, we can blame the Coronavirus for that. Tsk!

Aha, Wilkinsons before it moved and got renamed Wilko. Is that where the Japanese restaurant was opened? I can’t see any bus stops on this stretch?

Aha, Tesco in the new to be Trustees bank spot? I worked for Tesco, then the Co-op, then Tesco, then the Co-op, then back to Tesco, by Gawd we were lucky, it was so easy to get another job. Note the Sima car, a Lada, I think, and a Vauxhall Viva?

It must be early morning, judging by the lack of vehicles and pedestrians in this photo?

Kwik Save, in the old Metropole building, still going in this shot. I liked to shop there, a good car park at the back, low prices, and stale bread on sale. Hahaha!

Is that Drayton, or Melrose Street? That garage was great for repair prices. I took my three-wheeler Robin estate there years earlier, and got a new manifold fitted, dirt cheap! Fair enough, the engine blew up a week later!

I remember standing under a shop doorway to take this one, and I missed the flipping bus! Still, you don’t like to complain, does yer?

Ah, well, that’s yer lot folks.

I hope I’ve stirred a memory or two and raised a little laugh. TTFNski! ♥


Inchcockski – Sunday 13th September 2020: Long, long day! But this phagomaniac made a decent meal for once!

TFZer Gal – Bootiful!

Sunday 13th September 2020

Spanish: Domingo 13 de Septiembre de 2020

13th September 1959: The first man-made Object (Luna 2) reaches the Moon!

About an hour after getting down to sleep, I woke to see the colourfulness and the brightness of the night coming through the thin, tatty, old, raggedy, multi-holed curtains. I could not resist fighting my way out of the recliner to take a photo of it. Lovely!

Around 00:50hrs, I woke again, in need of a wee-wee, and struggled to the OGPEB (Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Emergency-Bucket), and struggled to pass what was maybe 2 or 3 fluid-ounces, over the next five minutes or so! Yes, another RSHH (Reluctant, Sprinkling-Half-Hearted) wee-wee! Hobbled to wash my hands, and then I got back down in the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly beige-coloured, unkempt, fluctuant, ramshackle, non-operational, uncomfortable, dusty, rusty, decaying, tatterdemalion, heavy yet tottery and unbalanced, positively-dangerous to use, rickety recliner, I soon nodded off again, which was pleasant and a change.

02:10hrs: I stirred into mock-life again, wanting another wee-wee. This time, catching my balance as I grabbed the stick, was a little more difficult, I’ve no idea why, but I got the bucket in time. It was an RSHH mode again, but with far less pain. The  Post-Micturition After Dribble lasted much longer than the main event did. Drip-drip, dribble, wait, sprinkle, drip… Tsk!

I could sense that things in the wee-weeing department were going to continue in the little-and-often style, so I emptied and sanitised the OGPEB, disinfected it and returned it to the computer room for later use. (And believe me, it saw plenty of action!). I’ll try to resist mentioning too many of them, it may sound too dull, but to me they were annoying. Each one was of deep luteous shade.

I remembered (Miracles do happen, then? Hahaha!) that the Falls-Team arranged delivery of a new walking frame was due to arrive today. So I got with doing the Health Checks sharpishly. The flipping SYS is still high!

The temperature, using the stick thermometer was the highest its been in many a month!

But that’s a good thing, I think anyway? I don’t think its too high at all.

I took a photo of the tablet trays, to show you how it is so easy to make a mistake in taking them. Although these pods were designed, to make it easier for we slightly more mature dodderers, and cut back on such errors. As you can see, the pills are all over the placed, many stuck under the covers, and others had moved into another compartment altogether! Many were stuck on the glue, others by the static electricity in the packaging. When they were first introduced, they told me they’d be fool-proof as well! Hah!

Obviously, they had forgotten about the well known locally ‘Special Skills’ of Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA, Telephone number: 0115 960 5453, just up Mansfield Road, from the Lidl store.

I’d no idea what time of day the frame might come, so I got on with updating the Saturday post. Got it completed and Pinterested some snaps from it. Went on Facebook updating, then the same with the WordPress Reader. Emailed the link, and made a brew of Glengettie Gold.

I closed down Computer Cameron and got some hand-washing done, before doing the ablutions. The old oven grabbers were washed with the other stuff. I’ve still got the new gloves, but these although hard to clean, easy to dirty, and very old and tatty (a bit my me really, Hahaha!), they’re more effective and easier to hold onto when Shaking Shaun or Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters play up.

I had a bit of spontaneous breakfast after the washing was done, wrung and hung—cheese biscuits and a pot noodle, and off to the wet room for a scrubbing-up.

I needed a Porcelain Throne visit first. One of the easiest for a long time. Yee-Ha! Still painful, of course, but so much quicker than even yesterday’s was! A bit of blood, a smidge messy. Needed cleaning up before I took a shower, Haha!

But would the cistern clear things? No! I needed to hand-fill the tank a couple of times, and still, some bits were floating even then? Aggravannoying!

The ablutions were miraculously incident-free again! Not much bother from Toothache Terence, only one dropsy of the toothpaste tube! The shaving produced only two little nicks that did not bleed much at all. Doing the showering and only one mini-dizzy-spell, and three dropsies! Drying off went well, too!

Ah, well, the medicationalisation didn’t go as smoothly, I’m afraid. I thought that the rear-end furuncle was clearing up yesterday, I was wrong, and applied the ointment a little too roughly, and the blood flowed! So had to apply some Dakacort cream to get it to stop! I cunningly did this in the shower area and then sprayed-away the resulting blood flow mess using the shower-head. (Smart, eh? Smug-Mode-Adopted!) Harold’s Haemorrhoid’s done with the Germoloid cream, and Arthur Itis’s knees and hands with the Phorpain Gel. I felt rather good about how I coped these problems!

The leg ulcer, or Clopidogrel allergy markings, had spread-out but got fainter, and some new ones appeared on top of the right foot, below the base of the toes. The fresh ones looked like freckles. Ah, well, it stops me getting bored, Hehehe! 

I got the new PPs on, a pair of trousers, and the maroon zip-up shirt. The Sock-glide was given a sneer of contempt, as I left the wet-room.

Because I was not wearing any socks, and the vicious, finger bruising and crushing monstrosity, was again, not going to be used, and my digits and legs put at risk of injury once more! Not that it scares me, of course! Oh, no!

Then, I set-too making up some black waste bags, and put the Floor-Voting paper on them, so as not to forget to take them with me on the way out with the bags, to the Rubbish chute, and take the voting paper down to the lobby.

I got a face-mask on, and the items were carried by hand, using only the wooden walking -stick. For some unknown reason, at that time, I felt in a rather panurgic, ready-for-anything mood? Yes, it confused and baffled me as, why as well!

By the time I’d got out, and to the chute-room, unfortunately, things had changed quickly. I was all over the place with the walking stick, and must have appeared drunk to anyone who might have seen me? The old balance had gone to pot again. I got the bags in the chute alright though.

Then clouted my right elbow against the door frame, on the way out of the room!  A spot of turbidity in the brain as I waited for the lift down to the ground-floor lobby. By the time I’d got down to the ground floor, and into the main hall, my balance was a lot better, and the foggy-brain seemed to be clearing. What’s going on here?

I posted the floor colouring preferences sheet into the ballot box.

And again, with a renewed physical and mentally settled state, I got the lift back up to the flat.

Where, perversely, the semiobscurity returned to the brain and vagueness, a lack of concentration came over me. My memories of getting Josie’s meal prepared is a bit sketchy. I discovered later on that I’d forgotten to photograph it, yet everything from when I wheeled it to Josie’s door, is crystal-clear? We chatted a short while, and I returned to the flat’s kitchen to get the cleaning up done.

I was doing well again, and then almost flaked out. My body and mind told me to get down in the chair, and stay there; I checked that I had on Medical Alert Alarm wristlet, which I did. And I immediately nodded of fitfully. I kept on waking up with the sunshine coming through the thin, decrepit, holed, curtains. But, nodded back off almost straight away each time. I suddenly jumped awake, and felt a different person, back to my old self? I’ll put this on the questionnaire when it comes from the hospital.

But I was feeling fine, and got up to check on the potatoes in the slow-cooker, made a brew of Glengettie Gold tea, and got the computer back on to update this blog. And Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters, and SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley), were both being good to me! I couldn’t understand what had happened, but I was so happy that things had returned to semi-normal. Obviously, now a scepticism and uncertainty remained, a sort of fear that it might happen all over again. Whatever the heck it was?

The door chimes rang out. It was an NHS chappie, delivering the new narrower walker for me. He was in a rush, my EQ picked up on that. I remembered what Nurse Caroline had told me about not doing anything with it when it is delivered until she calls again on Wednesday. So I put it with the spare three-wheeler on the balcony. I never thought I’d use one of these! It was wider than I expected, and I didn’t cope very well with it, putting it on the veranda, at all.

Updated this blog again, and it is now hours beyond my usual head-down time.

But the need for some Diary TFZer top graphics is urgent, so I moved onto CorelDraw.

Decided to make another brew first, straight Glengettie this time.

Then took a snap of the sunshine, and returned to CorelDrawing at last.

I only got one graphic done, (Tsk!), and made the template for tomorrows, and the got the fodder sorted out. Better late than never!

Battered fish strips, slow-cooked potatoes halved, and a bit of butter and onion-salt sprinkled on them. Garden peas, and some of the delightful baby Piccalo tomatoes. A pot of raspberry ripple mousse from the freezer, thawed out as I as the meal, nicely!

Tired-out now, but I stayed alert enough to enjoy this feast. Deserving of a Flavour-Rating of 8/10.

Went to get the meal things soaking in washing up bowl, and took this photograph of the evening’s view.

Having been up for over 20 hours or so, and in a state of weariness that was high, even for me, I felt so sure that I’d nod-off within minutes of getting my head down in the £300, second-hand, c1968, puke-making beige coloured recliner. It was not to be!

Sweet Morpheous did eventually arrive, but it was gone midnight by then! At least I got around four hours of deep-sleep in, before waking up in urgent need of a wee-wee and the Porcelain Throne. Ah, well, TTFN!

Friday 12th June 2020: Computerisational fauxpas, toothache, burnt, scolded and cut fingers, lost bread… Normal sort of day then! ‘Groggleknockers!’

TFZer Sweet Shirley ♥

Friday 12th June 2020

Sethoso: Labohlano la 12 Tšitoe 2020

04:25hrs: Lethargically, I came back to life, unsure of if I had actually woken, or was still in the middle of the dreams I’d been blessed with overnight! A medley of ever-changing subjects, from the embarrassing, fearful, and belligerent, to plain confusing, but longed for, impossible, (nectareous!) romantic happenstances.  I’ll not go into details, cause I’m short of tablets, and don’t want to get myself all excited) Hehehe!

I’m putting the changes in the view photograhicalisations, that I took over four hours, on the right-hand side here.

To show the amazing difference in colouring, light, etcetera, that took place.

There was a light mist with the morning views that turned into a fog, but only for an hour or so, then it reverted to just being a little misty.

Then the fog started coming back! All very interesting. (Or not?)

The last one was taken through the balcony window, as the fog paled back into a slight mist. Sorry about the diversion.

Now, back to the tale of the short, plump, wobbly-bellied, bald, deaf, Saccades Sandra affected, 5′ 2″, well-overweight, hobbling, Nottinghamian pensioner’s rising from his recliner. His £300, c1968, second-hand, obnoxiously-beige-coloured, none-working (my Xyrophobia suffering, over amour propre Brother-in-law Pete, when he was searching the flat while I was in the hospital after the Stroke, and taking my valuables, and he took a rest. Fatal! He could not resist the electrics and mechanics of the chair and fiddled with them. Now the machine no longer works!), ramshackle, uncomfortable in the extreme, rusty, rickety, none-working recliner.

When I had manoeuvered my ever-changing legs to the ground, the thin night-quilt went with the tootsies to the carpet – entwined painfully in the overgrown toenails! Getting the toes freed was also a most uncomfortable experience! Cragknackling & Teeth-grinding!

As I was getting up and grabbing the stick to catch my balance, it became evident that Toothache Thomas was going to give me bother. I decided to risk taking an extra painkiller with the morning brew, for the pain seemed to be getting worse as time passed. Arglebonkangony!

I took the first of the photos at the top right, got the kettle on the boil, and did the sphygmomanometerisationing. Made the tea, and took the second picture. The SYS reading had come down, but it was still a tad high, methinks. The pulse at 76 should be okay, The thermometer gave a numbered readout for a change, 86°. Fahrenheit, I hope. Out of interest, I looked at the temperatures on Google.  I got this explanation to my question.

By the time it had sunk in, I’d forgotten what I’d read! Hahaha! Looks good to me.

Off to the wet room, to satiate the demands for the Porcelain Throne. It was all over within a minute or so! No pushing from me at all. Things moved under the control of the innards, and the evacuated product was massive, but not messy. The rear end bled a lot afterwards. I’m not sure if this was due to Harold’s Haemorrhoids or something else. The piles, I hope! Cleaned and medicated. I’m so glad, almost thrilled, to tell you that Little Inchies fungal lesion, had not, and wasn’t bleeding at all. So no hurtful medicating needed here, Yippie!

As I left the wet room, the flat seemed so cold suddenly? I adorned the thick dressing gown. Brr!

The Assam mug of tea had gone cold, so I invested in a brew of Glengettie Gold. Off to the computer, and made a start on graphicalising input. Added to the scribble on the notepad to remind me later of things, and eventually made a  start on the updating of the Thursday blog.

Many hours later, I’d got it done and sent off. Pinterested a few shots. Then I went on the WordPress Reader. Onward, to Facebooking, TFZer then to Winwood Heights.

I made a start on with this post, then went on CorelDraw to make up some more TFZer graphics. I read that a tenant ordered some from Amazon. So I ordered some. I’d hate to be in the pickle of not being able to get on a bus! Should be arriving tomorrow.

The day was dark, the sun didn’t put in a smile all day. The mist lingered on and on.

11:25hrs: Then I got seriously involved in graphicalisationing on CorelDraw. Back later.

15:55hrs: The intercom chimed out.

It was a young lady bringing me my prescriptions that the chemist told Obergruppenfhurer, Gymnast and Warden Deana yesterday, would be arriving on Saturday! No complaints, though! I’m just glad that I didn’t go out, expecting them the next day.

At least Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA, Telephone number: 0115 960 5453, just up from the Lidl store, have kept to their habit of making me confused, every month. This time in reverse, and delivering them early for once, thanking them, kindly.

I thanked the young lady and gave her a can of cola with Jack Daniels in, to show my appreciation.

I put the bag on the kitchen counter and carried on trying to sort out the mess I’d gotten myself in with the graphicalising. I was trying to save some space on the hard-drive, by transferring some of the earlier graphics I’d done, to the drop-box. Well, I got deeper and deeper into a state of utter frustration and confusion.  All caused by Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, making me hit wrong buttons, or hold onto them too long, or not pressing, but thought I had!

Suddenly it was 19:00hrs! Oh, dearie me! I’m tired and weary. The head is spinning, and I have to give up. Too mentally-exhausted, to carry on. I did get so involved in the task as well.

I’ll make some Dagwood filled rolls, I dare not risk any cooking, how I feel now. Beef and tomato methinks. I may have to fight off, falling asleep to eat them. I’ll get them made up now. I’m an old furshlugginer, who should have my name mentioned in despatches!

Well, that was farcical again! No bread, other than frozen! Some, thick bellied and thicker brained old pensioner forgot to take the loaf out of the freezer, didn’t he! This failure of memory means I shall have bake to some cobs in the oven after all! It’s quicker than defrosting without a microwave. Grumph!

I shall have to wait for the oven to get hot enough, of course.  Bungle-Grumplewuncks! What happened to the hours of the day? Still, If I can save internal memory on the computer, it will be worth the anguish.

What next? Here’s what: I burnt my left middle finger, as I put the rolls in the cooker for regulated ten-minutes. Burnt my fingers as I got the rolls out, and again when I tried too soon to slice and butter them.

I ran the water over the worst of the scolds. At least there was nothing on the plate to go cold while I did this. I was getting wearer all the time, but the thought of eating kept me going. Hahaha!

Eventually, after making many crumbs spread about, and cutting my little finger on the slicer-knife, I got the plate served up.

As I took the photo of the served-up meal, I spotted something in the background, that made me feel even more incompetent than I actually am. Laying, where I now remember leaving the Warburtons on top of the crock-pots. The packet of Soft Brown Bread Thins. I’d left them there this morning, so I would not forget to them! Bungleworthiness!

I just left the pots in the bowl soaking, all I was up to was sleeping. I got down in the c1968 recliner, put the TV on, and found a documentary on which interested me, about the Australian murder, years ago. I’ve not watched the telly so late for donkey’s years, I was shattered and all uptight, and decided to watch this long two-hour long programme.

I actually stayed awake for the first hour (well, there was a few short nod-offs). Then the big advertisements came on! I still don’t know how things ended, cause I drifted into sleep mode!

For five hours, uninterrupted kip! That was pulchritudinously, welcome!

Inchcockski – Tuesday 9th June 2020: Busy, up-to-the-neck in it day!

Tuesday 9th June 2020

Afrikaans: Dinsdag 9 Junie 2020

01:45hrs: I came back to imitation life, and my mind filled with the memories of last night’s unfortunate, to say the least, Whoopsiedangleplop in the kitchen, when the bar on top of the cabinets came down, making a terrible mess, that I basically left unsorted, and needs tending to today.

This prompted my making plans on the duties that lay ahead for me. The Iceland delivery is coming, along with my beloved Hristina, my phlebotomy nurse in the same time-period; twixt 09:00 > 11:00hrs. I need to at least get yesterdays blog finished and posted first. Then make a start on this one. Do my ablutions. Get the mess in the kitchen sorted out, and the kitchen floor mopped up.

So, I got out of the £300, second-hand, c1968 recliner; niftily I might add, and off to the EOGPB (Emergency-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket) for an EBSC (Energetic-But-Short-Painless-Cloudy) wee-wee.

Then to the kitchen to get the kettle on and do the medicationalising as needed. The pins looked in rude health, although still looking a little aenemic. The leg ulcer had almost disappeared, but there was some itching coming from it.

The sphygmomanometer revealed that the Sys had gone up again. Could be the excitement of seeing my Vampire Nurse again? But most likely at the thought of all the cleaning and sorting of the kitchen collapse is likely. Grobognangles!

I got on with the updating of the Monday blog. Pressed on persistently and eventually got it all done and posted off. (This took me around two hours to do!) During which, a stomach ache came on? It might have been Duodenal Donald getting ready to kick-off, but I’m not sure. Finally finished it and posted it off. Emailed the link, Pinterested some piccies. Then onto Facebooking.

Time to get the ablutions sorted, then the kitchen to sort out. Oh, also the handwashing to be tackled. Oh, dearie me!

Well, it’s a long time since I’ve actually walked into the door frame! Shuddering Shoulder Shirley was not pleased, at all! At least it was the right blade, and with Nicodemus’sNeuroitransmitters on strike at the time, there was not much pain.

But, Shirley seemed to kick-off the instant I collided with the door, which meant I dropped and broke one of the Jenny-donated mugs which I as taking to wash! Cragknackles! Then, bending down to pick up the pieces, Back-Pain-Brenda joined in as well, she was nasty with it! But, a Silver-Lining-Search, told me I had been doing extremely well ailment wise over the last 24hrs, so I should only expect things like this to happen. Fair enough! Gragnattles! Also, it was handily timed, so I could apply some Phorpain Gel after the ablutioning! Again, Fair enough!

Just as I was about to start cleaning the teeth, and the need for the Porcelain Throne put in an appearance. Good timing again, there I was a limp-and-a-half away from the Throne at the time! And apart from being a little messy and Khari in colour, the ensuing evacuation was almost perfect. Yes, I know, a welcome shock it was! And no bleeding! Smug-Mode-Assumed!

Washed the dandies, and then searched for some teeth to clean. (Haha! Not many left now! A bit of bleeding where I got a tad over-zealous on the back lower teeth. Ah, the shaving next! Fully aware of the likelihood of Shuddering-Shoulder Shirley causing a slash or to, instead of using both hands and two razors as usually would, I tried shaving with just the left hand. But this seemed to set Anne Gyna off? How? Why? So, I reverted, carefully to my usual method.

There were a few nicks, but nothing extreme at all. And they did not bleed much either. I reckon the INR Warfarin level must be well low. With waiting for three weeks for a blood test, it’ll be interesting to see the results of today’s test.

A stand-up all over wash (Too early to use the shower and disturb my unseen for months neighbours) The pins (legs) were looking better than they have for ages. However, the legs did look exsanguinated in the extreme, which was a smidge worrying!

Then I medicated the bodily areas in need of the same. Haemorrhoid Harold’s crevice was Germaloid creamed. Arthur Itis’s knees were Phorpain gelled. Little Inchies fungal lesion, well, as usual, I gritted my few teeth and rubbed in some Corticosteroid cream Argh! Olive-oiled the ear-holes. Applied some tincture to a couple of bothersome teeth. No Saccades Sandra spray left. I’ll see if I can get in touch with the chemist tomorrow, then see if Deana can help with arranging to have it collected for me, along with the prescriptions.

I rang Jenny to tell her that when the milk arrives, I’ll ring her, and bring it down to her. But bless her, she having none of that, and insisted she would come up to collect and pay for them. She’s not a lady to argue with! I wish she’d adopt me, though!

Then I hobbled to the waste chute with two small bags. I was walking, well, stumbling decently enough, but the feet and toes were rather painful.

Back to the flat, and got the handwashing sorted out. I got the zip-up jumper above the heated cloths air ion the hallway to catch the rising heat. (Cunning, eh? Hehe!) I’ve now one drying, another cleaned, and the one I’m wearing and dirtying. Hahaha!

Then, I washed through the yarmulke, and craftily put it on a bend in the airer, and kept turning it every now and then, to help it dry quicker. (I’m not daft yer know! Alright, fair enough, I am!)

I got the towel drying on the flat airer in the front junk-room.

Somehow or other, I attained some zeal,   resolution, and pertinacity, and set about, limpingly, I admit, to get the kitchen floor cleaned!

Worra struggle and pain it was too! Cleaning of the floor, I knocked stuff over, dropped and lost things, cut my finger, banged my head on the cupboard door, broke the mop, banged my knee on the step ladders, and generally had a terrible time of it. Tsk!

But still, my determination prevailed. And finally, at last, I got the job completed. With little, if any, self-satisfaction, I’m afraid. I’d made such an absurd and frustrating accident-prone mess of it!

I got the kettle on, and the cobs and cooked beef out to make the beef sarnies, and heard the sound of the yap-yap dog, so I looked outside, and there was a group of dog walkers, all maintaining a proper social distance from each other, while their dogs had the time of their lives.

The lovely little black yap-yapper never stopped wagging its tail. The other two black dogs were playing with the bigger brown woof-woof. I got such enjoyment out of just watching them, it cheered me up a smidge.

I took another photographicalisation from the balcony, of the end of Chestnut Walk. The red cars were back.

Fellow blogger Bill, from the US of A, told me he doesn’t see many red cars over there. Looking at the top overall popular colours in the U.S., for all vehicle categories, White – 19.3%, Silver – 18%, and Black – 12.4%. The UK, it’s White – 414,403, Blue – 373,728 and Red – 226,501. Not earth-shattering, but interesting? 

The Intercom flashed and much to my delight, it was Hristina, the gorgeous, sweet-natured phlebotomy nurse come to take my blood. She was soon up in the flat. Having not seen any nurse for three weeks, and it being two-months that I’ve not seen Hristina, I was a tad disappointed in her being too busy for a proper chinwag. But, she still chatted while she took the blood, bless her! I could see she was pent up a smidge. She told me of how long she’d searched for a parking space, and had to park on double yellow lines and left a note on her windscreen saying she would be back in ten minutes. Poor thing. But the lift seeing her gave me, was most appreciated. 

I got Computer Cameron back on, and the intercom sounded. It was Iceland’s delivery arriving.

The chap was soon at the door and left the bags in the hall for me.

I got the carriers into the kitchen and sorted the skimmed milk into two bags to spread the weight for Jenny. Left them outside the door and telephoned her to tell her they had arrived. She again she insisted I do not take them to her, and she came up to collect them Bless her little cotton socks!

Ah, I’ve meant to look up the origin of this phrase for ages, and I finally did it! My Dad used to use it. Not to me, I might add! Hahaha!

Here’s Google’s first answer: It comes not from the cotton material, but from George Edward Lynch Cotton. In 1858 as Bishop of Calcutta, Mr Cotton created schools for Eurasian children. As part of his philanthropy, he ordered dozens of pairs of socks to be sent over for the children, blessing them on arrival.

Second one: “Bless their little cotton socks!“: Used to express your affection for somebody because of something they have said or done. Now we know! Hehe!

Jenny came up and pressed the bells, collected the milk and nipped off after she’d put the payment in an envelope through the door. “Bless Her Cotton Socks!” All sorted.

As I was making up three beef rolls to have later, perhaps with a few oven-chips, the mind went off on one of its lucubrations. Not a Thought-Storm as such, because somehow I was ignoring the mind-musing and getting on with making the cobs. That came out wrong, I think? I put the cobs in a cool spot to keep until I have time to eat. Not the fridge, though, cause of Toothache Thomas.

Back on the computer again, and the ‘I only want to be with you’ tune of the door bells chimed up again. Heart-stopper, ILC, and Warden Obergruppenführeress Deana came in, to test the wristlet alarm with the control room. Another busy gal! But while I had the chance, I had to ask her to help with the medications, to find out about the prescriptions for me I only have three days meds left, and if necessary, to arrange collection for me. She said she’d find out and ring me later. I’d be lost without help on the phone, thanks, Deana!

Back on the computer. Not got much done, a bit busy even for me today.

I went on CorelDraw, and guess what? Pee’d off now! I decided as it was late anyway, to turn things off, and got on with the snack. I decided (Yes, sometimes I can make my mind up! Usually, with an erroneous, wrong, incorrect, and much altered and changed outcome. Tsk! 

I made three of Big Baps up with butter and roast beef slices. Marmite flavoured cheese, tomatoes, fries and an apple pie. Taste rating result: 4/10, shame! The cobs were dry and bland, the Algerian tomatoes bitter and foul, and the apple pie all sugar, no fruit. But the Marmite cheese and fries were tasty.

Washed the pots, took the medications, and got down in c1968 recliner, to watch a football match from Euro 2016. Can’t remember at the moment who was playing, cause I fell asleep before it started.

Woke up four hours later, thinking it was morning, and got up. I should have known really, cause there were no demands for a wee-wee or the Porcelain Throne!

I decided to stay up anyway. I had a bash at trying to get the ankle-support strap on. No chance!

So I got this blog updated and sent off, then on Facebooking.

Taketh care folks!