Apparently, he also had charges pending for arson,
Drug supplying, TWOC and mugging with aggression,
He resisted arrest in June, giving a PC an abrasion…
Which bled, and the PC needed a blood transfusion,
Some good news, although he was bitten by a police Alsatian!
Luke Riley was jailed for 18 years; what are the chances?
Guilty of 11 child sex offences… it brings hatred & tears!
Including two counts of rape of a child under 13 years!
The Parole board’ll free the swine after 10, sad dears,
To enable him to rape again, of course…
They’re as guilty as he is, but what is worse…
For another child, it’ll prove disastrous…
Parole namby-pambies deserve some adverse…
Black Magic, hexing, a witches curse,
Locking up, hanging, at least something mortiferous!
No mention of Brayan’s admission of getting 139 illegals into Nottingham last year. No doubt he runs ten properties in the Nott’m area, which is all owned on paper by his Sister back in the city of Kirkuk in south Kurdistanin, and them being room rented out… Ah, Gorrit! Bet he’s shopped on the bosses of the slave trade? That’ll be why they have been treated so lightly for the despicable crimes they have committed? Profiteering by getting the poor lost souls into the country hidden in vans, and making them pay through the nose for years! Gits!
His defence? Almighty God wanted me there! I wouldn’t have thought that Putin would be too bothered?
I bravely hung out of the window this morning…
To take this photo, it was cold, I was shaking…
I hurried it, all done in a twinkling,
But, getting back in, Glaucoma Gladys was itching…
The hospital told me there’s to be no scratching!
The Cataract left eye, not even any touching…
So, I stubbed my toe instead… Hello, the mobile’s ringing?
Who can this be a three o’clock in the morning?
The message above, you see, was somewhat confusing…
I thought the tune was a telephone ring…
But no, definitely someone was texting.
Was this genuine, or was someone hacking?
Mayhaps a cold-caller pestering?
A con-job, this’ll need careful handling?
Carer Richard’s due in two hours; I’m praying…
He’s the lad to help, no quibbling!
It was getting lighter later but not much brighter,
Shut the window, trapped finger… blood blister!
Dropped the ointment and trod on it in a fluster,
But my bravery, I did muster…
Proud, I felt like a boshter!
Three visits, over £2,500 worth of stock filtered…
Had they not caught him, he’d have made a fortune!
Luckily they got him as he faltered…
He’ll be out on parole by the end of June…
To carry on, and Wilko will be pilfered!…
He punctures a stranger’s lungs, fractured his sternum, stabbed him in his chest, he’s on drugs of course – and what do the good old protect the public Crown Court turnips give him for this unprovoked attack? 10 months in Young Offenders holiday camp!!! Then tell him he’ll only serve half of the sentence and be released on licence… I can help but remember the 30 murderers who were released early and all killed again! The 44 early release prisoners who raped again! The 9 who stabbed again… the 11 who raped again… And my biggest hatred, the overpaid yet inept Parole Board scumbags who allowed these to happen – they should be found guilty of the offences of their freed early prisoners!
Just thought I’d mention it.
Inchcock Meal Snippet News
Mushrooms: Nicely seasoned for once
Pickle Balls: Enjoyed them
Apple: Too hard for the teeth to cope
Strawberry dessert: Too sweet
Veggie Hot Dogs: Terrible binned them
SAD LATE NEWS
e-scooters: Eleven deaths and over 1000 injuries were reported across England, Scotland and Wales last year. The use of privately-owned e-scooters on public roads is illegal. The figures alone should be enough for the Government (sic) to act on this.
The poor woman’s family do not want any bother or attention, and they have asked to be left alone, to mourn.
What with these e-scooter killings and injuries, the repeated releasing of killers & rapists early by the Parole Board, who murder and rape again… It baffles me.
Memories I have of sweets costing a farthing! Getting skin cancer through over-sunbathing,… I had sex once when I was thirtysomething… Being six, Mam ran away, and I learnt snogging, Christine, her name, I was her plaything!
Skidmarks on my unwashed underclothing. Trying my hand as a pugilist, boxing… I never won a bout; I was constantly losing… So tried the sports club amateur wrestling, Just one fight, it left me frothing and bleeding,
Years later, I tried my hand at WordPressing, Got dementia. It is very depressing… Worked in security, tried a spot of sleuthing, Caught a crook once; he was very scathing, He was found not guilty; I was seething!
I went undercover pretending to be birdwatching… Dressed in camouflage, green and brown clothing… Binoculars to hand, RT and truncheon packing… Fell out of the tree as I suspect, watching… Lost my job; it was gutwrenching!
Realising how bad I was at odes & blogging, When I was getting on a bit, seventysomething, I had a period of deep thoughts and soulsearching, Seeking whatever, a reason to carry on trying… Now I’m approaching the time for dying… Oddly enough, there’s no crying, just a bit of sighing!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
TUESDAY 31st MAY 2022
05:10hrs: After yet another horrendous night of shooting awake, nodding off and bursting back into ersatz life, I gave up; I needed a wee-wee, anyway. But that in itself was a nightmare… well, morning mare!
The regular of late, trickling, waiting and whistling, was followed by an even more extended period of dribbling! At least by taking my time and making sure that things had stopped, I avoided any splashing of the furniture, carpet or my body parts.
I started the sphygmomanometerisationing. BP first, with satisfactory results, as you can see here on the left. A smidge high, but nothing compared to many of last week’s figures for the SYS, at 149, DIA 74, and Pulse 78bpm. Very good! The Chinese (Hong Kong) was built by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer, was still showing low. Compared to the target set by the hospital, of 35°c, at 33.7°c. But no worries!
I made up a waste bag and then went to the wet room to check out the feet and ankles that I found affecting my balance and hurting me a smidgeon.
I dug out yesterday’s photo of the pins to compare it with today’s (top).
Quite a change? The DVT and old ankle blotch had gone all artistic and more pronounced. Which is what the pains did as the day developed. They have not been this bad for months? Then I got the kettle on but didn’t get to make a brew as the innards summoned me back to the wet room.
Once again, the motion was reluctant to start moving. So, I had a go at the crossword book, a different one, as the previous one had got me struggling. Got a couple of answers in, and the sludge started coming! I can’t recall ever having a more gooey sticky, pongy evacuation than this was! Half a new toilet roll later, I started the mammoth task of cleaning up. Had a wash, got dressed, and went back to the kitchenette.
Made a brew of Thompson’s Punjana, and got some photos uploaded to CorelDraw, then the computer. Got the Monday blog updated; it took me a long time. During which the feet started stinging even when I was sat down. What’s going off down there?
Carer Richard arrived. The lad didn’t look too good. So I launched some humour at him, to which he responded well. As he got the medications to me, the poor chap started sneezing and coughing, and he was sweating so much! Not that that stopped him for long, he even showed me how to get the Grammarly extension, not to give corrections for sentence building. Unfortunately, it stopped Grammarly from working at all! Hehehe! I laughed because we got it back on and laughed about it. (Phew!) Richard didn’t look any better when he departed, but I think he was a little happier. I hope he is not coming down with any illness. Fingers crossed that he’ll be back tomorrow and feeling better. I got the Monday blog post done last, and the Morrison delivery arrived.
The delivery person brought up the flowers first, so he didn’t damage them, and he went down to the other bags; that was kind of him. These are for the Wardens. He fetched the different parcels, and I got them into the kitchen.
Got the things stored away. There is no frozen today; the freezer would struggle to get a biro or single fruit gum in. At least I got some of the battered chips, not the ones I wanted, but the last ones tasted nice enough. They substituted for battered onions with a tray of mashed turnips? Still, they’ll do for me. The bananas almost made me feel guilty! They looked like a set of parents with their children. Alright, so I’m a little weird at times! It has to be admitted, I fear. My travel into loony-land is taking on a little speed lately. Hehehe!
Cleaner Esther arrived. Talking all the time, picking fault with me not getting out for some exercise… then she took the laundry down to get done. I missed most of what she said. But, I did pick up on my ordering too much food. I’ve long stopped bothering to explain things to her. Hehehe!
I took Morrison’s Amazon food delivery wrappers to the waste chute. The fire door was wedged open into and from the flat’s lobby area. Some work of some sort was taking place. The lighting of some sort, I believe.
I limped (the flipping feet are getting even more painful now?) down through the lift lobby and to the waste room door at the end to the left.
I partly trapped my knuckle in the cast iron lid as I shoved the bags into the chute. Nothing new; I’m becoming something of an expert in doing this!
Back to the flat lobby and through into 72 Woodthorpe Court single apartment. Well, I would; I live there. Hahaha! I may be losing it again here?
I got some Facebooking done and the WordPress reading. Later, got the oven warming up for the nosh, specifically the battered chips.
Esther returned with the washing, all done. Oh, the tongue lashing I suffered. I’ve no idea what they were about, mind you. But they flowed at me without relenting or relaxing for a good few minutes. Deafness can have its advantages. Hehe!
I’ll get the meal started, and then, if I don’t fall asleep, try to get the top Ode-making started. Got the beer-battered chips in the oven and got some WordPress comments answered, then went to check the ovens in the chips… or even the chips in the oven.
Enjoyed this plateful immensely. Especially the beer-battered chips. And soft bloomer sliced bread.
A Taste-rating of 8/10 was given. Then, as I had failed to get any desserts with the food order (my fault, Doreen Dementia’s), I guiltily had one of the baby bananas. You can see how small they were here. Tasty lovely. I’m not sure, but I might have heard it crying as I bit into it! Hahaha!
Washed the pots up. And then proceeded to drop the washing-up liquid bottle to the floor via my right toes. What a mess! Got it sorted out and just finished it.
♫ Oh, Susana ♫ rang out, and in came the Evening Carer. Well, Carers, mob-handed. Hehehe! They got the medications sorted, and we had a three-way natter for a couple of minutes, and off they went. Bless ’em.
I got the TV turned on, and there was no reception at all? Mayhaps the electricians, needed to turn off some connection to get done whatever they were doing? So, I put in a Heartbeat DVD to watch. The message came up No DVD inserted! Oh!
I reset the Freeview system. But only a third at most of the channels were loaded, and all West Midlands? So, reset again, picking the ‘All’ option. This time it came up and seemed to be working. But the DVD wasn’t having it! Humph!
I could see the sky’s colour changing through the paper-thin curtains. And nipped out to take a photo of the unique cloud and sky colouring. Not the brightest I’ve seen by a long shot, but I thought it was an awe-inspiring bit of nature.
Fifteen minutes later, the glow of the sun’s setting permeated the room, and I hobbled into the kitchenette. To take this picture. Another masterpiece of nature. I’m so glad I didn’t fall asleep now. But soo regretted thinking this.
The sixth night on the trot of being unable to get to sleep. Couldn’t read a book, thanks to cataracts, glaucoma and saccades. Put the TV on but could not hear it or read the subtitles easily. But kept springing awake again, seemingly every five minutes or so. After perhaps twenty jump-awakes on the 21st, I gave up and rose onto my feet for a wee-wee. It was hard work and well gone midnight before I drifted off…
♫ Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain… ♫
♫ Telling me just what a fool I’ve been… ♫
My bad luck, or lack of good fortune, continues!
A simple nosh made for a simpleton, Who knows not what is a sextillion… Who passes wind, and creates a septon, Dementia has made his brain wanton… Yet had a dream, a hope and a premonition… One day he’ll write a daily newspaper’s feuilleton, But he’s too old now, this bald, retarded Briton… He still cooks, nowt fancy like venison or a wonton,
I’ve waffled again, then again, and so did Byron? I’ll try summat daring – like eating a persimmon! I’m mentally decaying, needing a psychosurgeon? Desperate to be seen by a neurosurgeon… To be honest, I’d take from any chirurgeon! Even if it helped just as smidgeon… To slow down my deteriorating condition!
Evening carer has been, all shattered, but mentally okay, Of course, there was no chance of it staying this way… Control of my grey-cells thinking seems so far away… No matter what I try, the confusion’s here to stay… Of course, I’ve tried for help; I often pray, But there’s no chance of improvement, I daresay… Just have to hope tomorrow is a better day…
Lost the plot on this Ode; I don’t need to be told, My mind refuses to be controlled… I’ve no virtues of being extolled… I’m not feeling very bold… Problems that need to be resolved? Why has my good-luck gland never evolved? Why have I never won a gold? No wonder my hopes have dissolved!
You may think this diary is so short on content and reckon I’d lost the reminder pad, and I spent hours searching for it and couldn’t find it anywhere? Panicked and faffed about, stubbing my toe and using naughty language as I built up my hatred for Vascular Dementia Doreen?
This guesstimate or thought would be Spot-On!
THURSDAY 26th MAY 2022
Cor blimey, and luv-a-duck! What a fantastic kip I had last night! I reckon I’d had about seven uninterrupted hours with Sweet Morpheus! I stirred back into pretending life around 0535hrs.
Of course, with not getting up repeatedly for a wee-wee, I was in a desperate need within seconds of waking up. The trip to the bucket was interrupted by a new requirement – the Porcelain Throne.
The lower back pain kicked off as I turned with metal Mickey in hand to divert to the wet room. In the hallway, dang it! Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters came back online, and the leg flailed… straight into the edge of the doorframe, acquiring a rather nasty toe-stubbing to add to my slowly increasing collections of morning pains!
And what a messy session it turned out to be! Despite waiting many minutes for the motion to start and having a failed attempt at getting any clues answered on the crossword that I’ve now been doing on the throne for over a week, there were no indications of any progress. So, I started counting the new veins that had come upon the leg. Having worked out that only two new ones had come up and felt for sure at least five had gone down, I was considering going into a Smug-Mode…
Then, the… well, an explosion is the only word to describe it – the evacuated product burst out in some haste, and I could feel the splashes rebounding back up to my bottom and gentleman’s tackle storage area. What a mess the Throne and I ended up in! So, I set to cleaning and freshening things and me up in the wet room. I was caught out, right and proper, by Trotsky Terence’s reappearance after a few days. Humph!
All spick and span again, and feeling a smidgeon proud of how I handled the unfortunate evacuation, I departed the wet room on my way to treat myself to a mug of tea. And clouted my shoulder on the doorframe, setting Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley off jigging all over the place in her effort to dislodge the shoulder bone, I think!
Needless to say, I was a little pee’d off now. I took a painkiller with the tea and rubbed some Phorpain Gel well into Shirley’s shoulder where I could reach. I felt sorry for myself, and I reflected on who was really to blame. Doreen’s Dementia, Nichodemuses Neurotransmitter, Neuropathy Pete, Cataract Kathleen, Glaucoma Gladys, and me! So many options came to mind that I decided all of these were at fault or the causes of my morning’s dilemmas.
I took a snap of the view from the kitchen window. Although it may have been from yesterday now, I think of it. Dementia Doreen is not easy to live with.
I got on the computer to finalise and post the local News Snippets blog. I pressed on regardless, and I lost a lot of time changing the central Ode. Why? I forget why I thought it was a good idea. The original and one I ended posting were both crap, anyway! But then, I’m good at crap. Consistently, I reliably churn it out.
I went to make another brew, determined to get this one drunk! The red sky reminded me of the old saying, “Red Sky at Night, Shepherds delight!” By the time I’d taken the pictures, the red sky had gone.
When I checked the photos on the camera, I was not impressed at all. But of course, with Cataract Kathleen, Glaucoma Gladys and Saccades Sandra lingering, what would I know. Hehehe!
Ah, when I got these on later, they looked so different in the Preview window than on this editor that I’m using.
♫ Oh, Susana ♫ chimed out, and in came two carers. They were not listening types; both were supervisory. It is my fault for talking to them when they sorted out the paperwork. I must stop doing that!
I went into the balcony, opened the end window, and took this shot of the Chestnut Way end car park… Trapping my finger in the spring lock as I close the window afterwards. Tsk!
I’d anticipated Richard coming today. My grasp on actuality had gone away. One of them had returned to the fold, and I was ready to listen to my tale of the potato husks that I’d left in the oven for eight hours overnight. I’d kept them to show to Richard, but they got a laugh out these gals when I showed them to them. Haha!
I got on with the updating and posted it to WordPress. Had a while on Facebook Catchup. Then made a start on the first Ode for this one.
Blimus! It was gone midday in no time!
I must get the WP comments to read and answer. Then I read the WordPress Reader new blogs and commented on them.
The Evening Carer will be due soon, Valerie, I hope. I’m going to get my wash and change into the night attire now, TTFNski. The ankles were a bit blotchy again? The INR being high?
A can of the veg chilli-con-carne, baked some chunked potatoes, last of the Milk Roll bread, and a pot of weak watery Morrison’s Honey flavoured yoghourt. I enjoyed it. Taste Rating: 7/10.
Arrived after I’d washed the pots up. Forget the Carer’s name again, nice gal.
I got down to kip, but the notable changes in the evening sky forced me to keep getting up to take photographs of the views. I’ll put them on Friday’s blog; hopefully, the SD reader will be working better then.
Sleep was a long time in coming. But that was my fault for me keeping getting up several times to photograph the changing sky.
Ode To Hope
Every time I think things may improve, I suffer a forfeiture,
For being foolish enough to be a self-deluder?
Of course, existence will just get crappier,
Anyway, if things went right, would I be happier?
Good fortune for me; it would be so unfamiliar…
No doubt it would make me feel guilty and peculiar?
I’d probably go into shock and have a stroke or seizure…
Not to worry, I’ll take my tablets and a gulp of tincture!
I’d have loved to have written my verse cleverly… Be intelligent, superior, educated, and academically! Blend words in rhyme that folk view as appreciatory, But Doreen’s Dementia makes me do it clumsily… Not that the comments sound exactly derogatory… My viewers’ total is abysmal, or worse, evidently,
I try not to write this blog grouchily… Make it fun, folks, to read it happily… I may, at times, add things that sound grumpy, That’ll be of Doreen and Peripheral Neuropathy, Though sometimes, to me, the reality is illusory… And I’ve never ever won the lottery!
Like now, my plots and thoughts have gone hazy? This can happen for days at a time, not momentarily, Semi-logic can return, within a few days, ordinarily, But of course, please remember this is not obligatory, During my brain’s down-times, there’s still diversity… Trying to control it brings much lachrymosity!
I often dream of acquiring omnipotency… Of course, I can’t, so carry in my impecuniosity… It’s not just money & wealth, of which I have a scarcity! But also suasion, wisdom, rationality, logicality… Folks tell me, I have endless inconsequentiality? I think this is similar to insignificance or banality? No doubt, I need help mentally… and exigently!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
04:35: Rose for a wee-wee. Kettle on, sorted waste bags. Had a rinse, got partly dressed, and got the kettle on.
Getting dressed, I thought it looked like the right leg’s foot was darker than the left leg? But mustn’t complain, cause the rest of the leg and ankle looked far better than yesterday!
Took off the pad from yesterday’s INR Warfarin blood test and could not help bus picture my beautiful, precious, and pretty beloved Haematology nurse Hristina in my mind! ♥
Sphygmomanometerisationing was done next. The SYS was up 26 points to 140, DIA up by 2 to 63, and the Pulse had fallen somewhat to 77. Checked on the NHS site; The Ideal is between 60 and 100 beats per minute (bpm). That means it must have been high spot on, indeed perfect, for several weeks. The body temperature was well down again, low for several days; according to the NHS, 35°c is the optimum?
I got on the computer, and my brain froze. What I was doing, I had no idea, really. This has happened now and then since the stroke. It can often last for a few hours, like waking up, but with no memory of the period of blankness. I named them Mind-Blanks. Then you worry about what you’ve been getting up to! It only lasted about an hour or so, I think. It seemed that I had started another blog template and been working on the wrong one. I really got annoyed when I discovered this! I swore at myself, and I wanted to give up!
Richard the Carer arrived, and it helped pull me around. Not that I wasn’t still a little miffed ant the Mind-Blank happening. Even though it hasn’t happened for a week or two. I think? Rich’ got the Alert Alarm battery checked and gave me my medications. As we had a much-missed chinwagging session, I went to put the mini-hoover back on its charger and…
As I was bent down to reach the socket, Neuropathy Pete instructed his neurotransmitters to give me a flailing leg dance! I dropped the mini-hoover (I hope I’ve not broken anything), and I clung dearly to the electric shelf. It was all over within a few minutes, and no rumblings or injuries. That was due to Carer Richard’s quick response in getting to me in time. I’m pretty sure (although it was a short affair, it was brutal while it lasted) that it would have had me over had I been on my own.
Two cameras, a remote, and the SDH card reader have given up on me in the last few days. Mind-Blanks, Leg Dances, Dizzies, Falls and tumbles are getting more frequent. Doreen’s Dementia, Cataracts Kathleen, and Glaucoma Gladys have all been having a go at me! Best if I say no more on the subject, methinks!
Took this snap of the rain, made a brew, and pressed on, trying to get the mess I’d made on WordPress understood and corrected; it was hard work that needed concentration. But, it went well for about two hours, progress-wise, and then Esther came bundling in to get the laundry. That shot my attention to pieces.
I began to make progress again. Esther returned with the laundry. Boy, can she talk? Hehe! Unfortunately, she does it when walking away from me and in the other room. Not the foggiest of what she’s saying half the time.
Well, I’ve got to get a rest. I’ll make some canned tomatoes and soya and use the old bread. After that, I can envisage myself just falling asleep until the evening carer wakes me up… there are about four hours in which I can make, eat the meal and some precious sleep… if that is possible.
Extra-chopped tomatoes with pieces of soya. And some slices of milk roll bread… well, half the loaf! Gobbled it up at my leisure slowly and enjoyed it. The Flavour rating for this one was 7.5/10! Washed the pots and was soon in the land of nod. Dream filled, though. No details are recalled, yet I still know that I had dreams?
An hour or so later, Evening Care Valerie arrived, and the shock of the chime bursting out and waking me shook me a bit… at first, I thought I was still in my dream. Hehehe! As I stirred and Valerie came, I realised that although I had got my jammie bottoms on, I was topless this time. Still, she didn’t mind my bulbous, adipose, abdominous, podgy paunch that bounced around in front of me when I stood up. Humph! Val got me sorted out, and I handed her some nibbles in thanks, and off she trotted, kindly taking the waste bag from the door with her for me.
I considered staying up to get on with this blog, but with all the cock-ups and mistakes I’d made earlier in the day, I decided to get back down in the c1968 second-hand recliner and get back to whatever the dream was about. And I did!
Ten minutes later, ♫Oh, Susana♫ rang from the door chime again. I whipped a jacket on quickly and went to open the door – It was Valerie back again.
She had gone back to the Meridian Office and found a letter from the DVT Anticoagulation Clinic changing the Warfarin dosages. Bless her, she realised she’d just given me the wrong dosage earlier and returned to give me more to agree with the new dosage roster. This should have been provided by whoever was in charge (surely?) to the night carer? But it had been left on the desk. Fortunately, the new dosages had increased, and Valerie gave me the extra tablet to put things right for me.
The thought was that had Val not found this new rota or the doses had gone down, not up, it would have been too late, and it meant I could be in a pickle medically if I had a bleed and an increased risk of a heart attack, blood-clot, and or stroke. Methinks Meridian, who has just put their prices up, has made a mistake. Be interesting to see if I get an apology this time. Valerie saved the day, anyway!
EMBARRASSMENT! As I was taking the Warfarin tablet, it dawned on me – I did not have my jammie bottoms on! I red-facedly thanked Val, and she shot off, Bless her cotton socks!
First, a few words to explain why this blog is as pathetic as it is
❶ I’ve lost so much time with Liberty-Global Virgin Media going down, I lost count of how many times in the last two days!
❷ Then, today (Saturday), Facebook started doing the same thing!
❸ I took a tumble on Friday, which left me with the shakes.
❹ The eyes seem worse today; it’s a struggle.
❺ Shaking, Shaun returned.
❻ Eyesight still poor
FRIDAY 20th MAY
Good morning; I didn’t do this blog until Saturday evening. There are very few memory notes on the pad and not many photos to help the grey cells out. Facebook was going off again so often, and Liberty-Global – Virgin Media. So this is not going to be very erudite… not that it ever was. There will no doubt be some guesstimating and missed events.
Up at 01:30hrs to get the previous day’s blog completed. WP Reading. Comments, and I pressed on for hours to get the blog done and posted. Facebooked until it, and Liberty-Global Virgin was going down so often, I gave up. Try to catch up later.
Carer Valerie called, and I had the shakes at the time, which worried her a bit; bless her. I was still a bit unsteady when the Morrison delivery arrived, but when he left the packages in the doorway and had scooted, I started to come round nicely. I took some photos while I got the things away.
Still, the fridge didn’t look overfull to me? Could it be the eyes? Or a ghost coming into the flat and eating my stuff while I slept? I put it down to the Mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, or ectoplasms, that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind? I sorted things out but could sense, no idea how, but this happens sometimes, a feeling that either an involuntary right-leg, Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance Shuddering Shoulder Shirley was on the way and building up in preparation. It was a tingling sensation up and down my right side, where the stroke affected me. Huh! I decided to take as much care as possible to ensure there would be no ending up on the floor again today!
Herbert kicked off with the clattering, seemingly forever dropping things, drills, hammers, and meal boxes… Humph!
Arrived, I was not too good, and she noticed it. Said I was looking sweaty and pale, bless her.
Ablutions, then blogging away, making little progress. The computer went off again, so I made a meal; I can’t really remember if it was this one or not.
I recall going in the wet room, but I must have had a funny turn cause if I’d worked it out right, I was in there for an hour or maybe fell asleep on the Throne?
I had no idea who the evening caller was; I wasn’t even sure one had called… no… one did… I reckon. Shakes bad.
At it again. Clunk-thudding it.
Ah, I think it was Carer Cheeky Charlie who called on me, but… maybe not.
Got to sleep easier tonight, but the jumping awake was annoying.
SATURDAY 21st MAY
Gave up trying to sleep and rose around 01:30hrs.
Worked on blogging, no washing. Did my best.
Serene Sarah, I’m sure. Or Cheeky Charlie, was it? Both are lovely gals.
After she’d gone, I went to use the Throne. I was doing alright, had a wash while in the wet room, and as I turned towards the door, I had an involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance! I hit the wall and slid to the floor, and made a bruising contact with the floor in no time! It had to come; I expected this yesterday. Minutes afterwards, the lower back pain started and still has not stopped. I’ll see it goes, but I may call the NHS 111 number if I am forced to seek assistance. I won’t do it now cause the pain may ease off as time goes on. I’m such a hero… Hehehe! I’ve been a little wobbly on the legs since the Accifauxpas.
I’ve been a bit unlucky this week. The 40 bus did not stop to pick us up at the bus stop. The tumbles and knocks this week. Walked into doorframes, dropped a bowl of potatoes and cheese, burnt my hand, and slipped off of kerb hobbling up Winchester Street… so, everything is normal there then.
At it again. Clunk-thudding.
The Carer is due anytime now. Got a wash and got into the jammies. Then remembered the potatoes I’d put in the slow-cooker 13 hours ago… Mild Panic Mode Engaged, and shot off to check on things in the kitchen…
As I was getting them out of the pot with tongues, I got a hickey as I caught my little finger in the gripper. Oh, heckithump! Not only were they too soft, each one had blackies on the inside when I sliced them, So they are even looser now.
Carer Valerie arrived and asked me if I needed any help with the spuds. I declined her offer but thanked her. She got the tablets given to me and went on her way, taking the waste bags with her. ♥
I got back to the now lesser-blackeyed potatoes I’d sliced, and put them in the oven, to hopefully crisp them up a smidge. Got some tomatoes o the plate ready and two slices of imitation pork. But…
I cast my mind back to when I had to cook and clean for Dad. I’d got no bread, well I had, but it was in the freezer. So I got a few slices out, put them in an empty saucepan with the garden peas, and hoped they would thaw out before I needed them. No freeze, no fridge, no hot water other than what we boiled on the fire and stove, and no electricity (but we did get it later). Easy peasy when we got DC electricity fitted, gone were the candles… and damned good riddance! How the hell did I manage?
I checked on the potatoes, now sliced and in the oven. The sun was beginning to go down, and I took a few minutes pareidoliaing at the cloud formations. II thought I saw a mouth and lips or an imitation black hole that was white. Hehehe!
Got the fodder served up. The slow cooker and sliced and oven-baked potatoes were terrible, possibly my worst effort in years. But everything else was fine and tasty. Taste: 6.5/10.
Off for a wee-wee and had another figure-finding session at the kitchenette window’s clouds. Sadly, no pictures or visions were seen in the clouds this time. Although looking at them now (Sunday morning), I think I spot a monster in there flying?
As I searched for Sweet Morpheus, Herbert gave me a last short mechanical serenade with a whirling, whining sound to round off, decrescendo style. Possibly, an underpowered drill chugging? I mentally wished the aloof Laodicean a good night.
Woke at 04:20, and I rose from the recliner at 05:00hrs. Why the time gap? Cause I was getting memories of a dream I’d had written on the memory pad to put on here. Wee-wee, and onto the computer.
Everyone in the flats got a text message; no more new tenants were allowed in the apartments. In five years, whoever is left will be transferred into wooden bungalows on the grounds of the City Hospital. I was looking forward to living long enough and moving.
The social room at Winwood Court was converted into a pool room with about twelve tables. We all had to compete, and those with the highest scores would get the first choice of wooden cabins to move into. I was told by a Nottingham City Homes manager, “So? I pointed out that I was colour-blind and had cataracts, glaucoma, and saccades. Roger’s only got one hand, and Ethel is as blind as a bat… anyone considered not social enough will be sent to live in the Salvation Army Hostel. So let’s see some willingness and effort!” I apologised.
Blurry memories then, involving a ski slope, toolboxes, and a day trip out on buses for all of us to Skegness. Ethel and I caught the train home after leaving us behind.
On the day of the move, we all set off walking the mile and a bit with guards and Carers. We advanced in single file and long line, all with suitcases, wheelies, etc. Most of us got lost on the City Grounds. Well, I did. Then after finding the others, I was sent to a Bed & Breakfast place in Newcastle. They booked me a train for midnight.
I was sleeping in a corridor, and someone woke me. Somehow or other, I was in the final of the pool competition, and I didn’t win a single game in the qualifying stages? I don’t recall playing this match at all?
Suddenly, many of us were walking back out of the City Hospital grounds, same again, guards, staff, single file. We walked through a Council House Estate, but I had no idea where we were going and why. But I ended up in a coal cellar… Then shot awake!
I went to make a brew of JS Extra Strong… and clouted my right knee against the cabinet corner. Made the brew and left it to stew. Then needed to use the Porcelain Throne. Trotsky Terence was losing his grip a little on the evacuation. So, much less time was wasted on cleaning up.
I took an early morning shot of the view from the kitchen window.
I’m hoping that the JS food delivery will be early, and they will deliver the flowers for Jillie.
So, it will leave me plenty of time to get things ready to get down to Jillie’s house with the flowers, bank, and shopping at the Ozan store. I’m hoping they have some of the Herb veg pork in stock and have a nosey around for any other delights that may take my fancy. Hehehe! Apart from Jillie! 💙
Richard arrived, handing me an SD card I could have, damned decent of him, bless him. He had another call, so again could not stay for a chinwag, but I appreciated his generosity. He should be back again the following Monday.
The Sainsbury delivery arrived. Thanks to tp the incompetency of Money-Mad Fries, the $23 million a year boss at Liberty Global, I had no distractions from the no-signal internet on the computer. So I got on with sorting the things delivered out to storage.
As you can see here on the left, fresh foods are topped up and a couple of treats. But they have sent pork pate with pork, not the vegetarian, so that will have to be found a home. There is plenty of date on it, so maybe Richard can have it on Monday. Also, and as well, and besides: Three items short out of stock, but to avoid getting substitutes, like shoe polish for waffles, I ticked the ‘Do Not Substitute’ Button… Cunning? After packing things away, the fridge didn’t look overfull? Had I missed something? Bags of room in the refrigerator still. Have I lost a load of nosh or something? I pondered… I have been known to do this several times a day! Then realised, no yoghourts, no cakes and no leeks, I’ll make an order for Morrisons later.
Not the same story with the freezer, mind you. Well, cram-packed, that is. In fact, I’ve got freeze burns and bruises on my fingers as I fumbled about taking stuff out and rearranging things to make more room for the new stuff squashed and levered and bashed food into the drawers. I felt a smidge smug after sorting it all out! Hehe!
I made the order for Morrisons for Sunday. By which time there should be a little more room. I called Jillie to see which flowers she would prefer, and the gal opted for the roses; nothing romantic was involved in that, I’m too old, and she is too beautiful. But I still love her.
Off to get ablutions. No rush; I think I can take my time and still catch the 10:30hr bus down the hill. I’m not joking here: Harolds’s Haemorrhoids and Little Inchies Fungal Lesion were not bleeding! No bleeding, shaving, nasal clearing or teeth cleaning! Honestly!
These are never pain-free, as you would expect. But nothing was extreme pain-wise; even ointmentating the lesion had an acceptable Argh-Level!
Fair enough, poor old right-knee Arthur Itis and Cathleen Cartilage came off painfully when I was leaving after doing the medicating when an involuntary Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about proper leg dance kicked off. I hit my knee on the door frame. I recall being even more annoyed than usual cause everything had gone so well in the session. Got dressed and checked the items needed, and I set off…
THE TRIP OUT!
I put the rebagged flowers in the trolley walker in carrier bags, with some plonk for the Wardens and Jillie. Out, locked the door, in the lift, along the link corridor into Winwood Court, to the Wardens Holding-Cell Offices. Haha! Dropped the Alstroemeria Bouquet for Generaloberstess, Ice skating champion, Warden Julie, and Desktop Dancer and Obersturmbannfuhreress Warden Dean this week. Wished the gals well and out to the bus stop… this was unbelievable!…
I arrived at the bus with almost perfect timing. Four other tenants, who I greeted, were at the bus shelter. I was standing near the kerbside with my bus pass in hand… The 40 Bus sped into and around the turning island… and ignored us all, didn’t slow down an iota, – and he sped back out again? The folks were livid! Shaking fists at the departing bus, shouting, swearing… I think this may have annoyed them somewhat!
I set off wobbling along with the walker-guide trolley. I couldn’t get annoyed with the bus driver until I found out why leaving us. He may well have just got a message on the RT about a family member taking ill? I set off down Winchester Street towards Jillie’s house at the bottom of the road on the left. The right knee caused me some discomfort en route, but knowing I was just about to meet Jillie eased things considerably. Hehe! ♥
I took my time and got to her door. It was a pleasure to see her smiling face as she helped me up the steps with the trolley. I handed her the roses, and I got a kiss for them and the plonk. She was working on and off in the other room. She made me comfy in a chair and put cushions around me – yer can’t ask for better treatment!
We had some chinwags, and later, she signed off work on her computer to go with me to the cashpoint and shop. What an angel!
As we were waiting to cross over to the bank, Jillie said: There’s a cashpoint at Ozan’s shop. Let’s go there. So we did! She helped me back down the steps, and we chinwagged on the short trip to the bank machine.
It was terrific shopping with Jillie. She looked after me like she would a grandfather; I thought of her as a daughter. She dealt with staff for me cause she knows my hearing problems, and I got some vegetarian and pork meats, amongst other items. We walked back up Winchester Street, where her house was, hugged, and departed. She left me at the bus stop, bless her cotton socks.
I’d just missed a bus, so I decided to walk carefully up the hill, taking some photographs en route.
Halfway up Winchester Street Hill, the clouds caught my eye again, and I took this snap on the right. It came out rather artistically? Well, maybe not, then. Getting towards where the road changes name. To the right, it becomes Mapperley Rise, and to the left, at the building you see, it continues as Winchester Street. I think years ago it led to the railway station, now gone! In fact, the flats were built on the site!
As I turned onto Chestnut Way, where Winwood Heights are, I noted on the verge the usual Nottingham collection of rubbish, and amidst the fag packets, sweet wrappers, empty bottles, chewing gum, thrown away cans and contraceptives, the flowers that always amaze me more than any other. The determined daisies. So pretty and yet simple. The blue can, maggots coming out of it? Hehehe! What’s this, alcoholic maggots and meat flies?
I crossed over Chestnut Way, passing the bus stop that people get abandoned at, Haha!). I knocked on the Warden’s office to report the bus, but I think they were on break, so I continued through the link corridor on my way. Not a soul in sight; it was oddly eerie until a man and woman came in the opposite direction, we exchanged pleasantries between us, and I went to the swipe door at the end.
The area built for mobile and disabled scooter storage is where the power points are located.
Then, on to the lifts in Woodthorpe Court.
Still nobody about. I pressed for the 12th-floor. (Well, it seemed a good idea as I live on the 12th, Haha! I can still be quick sometimes! Not physically, mind, my days of bungee jumping are over! I can’t see (Cataracts, Glaucoma and Saccades, Haha!) myself playing snooker, squash, or even the barrel organ again? I’ve not got a lot of hope of doing the Hokey Cokey!
I got through the inner lobby doors, wiping the blood off the wall after trapping my knuckle in the door as I fought to stop the wheelie-walker from going over.
Then whilst I was struggling through the apartment door with the wheelie-guide, I knocked the waste bags off the box, and one split open! Why do I bother?
Got it cleaned up and sorted. Put the trolley in the corner, brakes on, turned to go through to the kitchen with a little bag of nosh, and knocked nearly all of the clothes hanging on the hooks off onto the floor as Dizzy Dennis paid a visit!
I got the mock ham, sandwich fillers, and soft cheese portions. Ready to make the nosh later… Oh, and the bottle of Oyster sauce. I’ve never tried that before, and Jillie warned me not to use it a lot.
Then it was concentrating on getting this blog done. I spent four hours on it, and the evening carer arrived; it was Cheeky Charley, so pleased to see her; she’s not been for a week or two now.
Did some more blogging and then on to Facebooking catch-up.
Lovely day for me; seeing Jillie was the highlight. But walking down and up the hill had done me in. I’ll get some fodder and sleep, I hope. Finish this off in the morning… again, I hope. I wash, stripped off, and down to kip! Haha!
Friday AM, 01:30hrs. I’m back. Wee-wee and on the computer.
Uploaded the nosh picture and car park ones from yesterday. The first car park one showed a lack of RVM vans on the hatched no parking area and the small red car in RVM’s spot. RVM had parked at the back in a proper car parking space. Curious! Hehe!
The sourdough sarnies, veggie sausages and meat, cheese twist, yellow tomatoes, banana and mini vegan orange flavoured cake made up the evening meal. A Taste Rating of 7/10.
😴 Ode to Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit 😴
No Mortal is at all hours wise: to those giving generously, R.A.O.B., Military, Masonry, things like them, you see? GLE, GLC, folks who generally live life benevolently, And many others working for a charity, Does this ode verse lack a certain clarity?
This Ode, maybe a smidge short on facticity, I always wanted to join brainy clericity, But I was too thick and brain dead; that was a pity, No education for me; I survived using astucity, I shouldn’t be writing about this; I lack profundity!
Did my best in school but lacked the perspicuity… Never got near to showing any sagacity… Not guilty of showing financial rapacity… For being bullied, being a coward, I’d got the capacity… I’d have had a better life if I’d shown more pugnacity,
To others, I seem to confuse with abstrusity… I’ve tried to retain unquestionable veracity, honesty, Yet always a victim of con men and predacity… I also try to avoid showing spite or mordacity, I was born with certain appendages of great paucity!
I strove to avoid doing the devil’s work, infelicity… Unfortunately, with a high level of inefficacity! Always the victim, gullible, with incredible credulity, My brain showing sporadic moments of reality… But riddled throughout with psychoactivity!
This morning, my depression turned to contemplation, First, a few moments of deep retrospection, What ifs, maybes and with some reprehension… With mixed feelings, I recalled Thatcherisation, A spirit that shocked and scared the whole nation, Can’t keep his pants on John Major, constipation! Tony Blair, liar, self-advancer and chancer… revulsion! Gordon Brown, debt maker, indeed, no statistician, Runaway Etonian, smug, arrogant but shit… Cameron,
Theresa May, Grenfell Fire, Tory Council, on the next day, Lessons from the fire would be learned, she did say… Visited the aftermath and was chased away! Kensington & Chelsea London Borough Council, well they… … are responsible, but Tories: So, no prosecutions to this day!
Guilt, self-blame, and self-recrimination led to self-expostulation, Whatever came to mind led me to self-recrimination… Black depression, I’d lost control and rationalisation… I needed a bit of luck… to regain my motivation… Eventually, I settled for acceptance of insanity and self-irrision! It seems my life will never get any moments that are ambrosian, Then again, there’s is there ever any justification…
But no! I shall fight this darkness by being conciliatory, Apart from the ailment, deafness, and cataract, I can see… Most of the other problems are down to my past stupidity! The guilt should be expected and accepted, you see… Bad choices, and decisions, are coming back to haunt me! So how do I fight them off to get my mind guilt-free? I just have to sulk and take the blame compliantly!
I found when reading this that it flows with duplexity… My rambling thoughts get entangled, incipiently… Reviewing failures is a wise thing, necessitously… I’ve so many ailments and faults characteristically, And a stomach that bulges grows, excrescently! I struggle through each day rather incompetently, Thought storms and depressions are just an inevitability! This does not stop me from wanting happiness, such a pity!
Inchcock is now out of his Dracula Depression,
The main reason was his guilt; he now shows contrition…
The reasons for this, there’s a combination…
Well, several really, starting with his visit to the fridge,
He found some mushroom pate, just a smidge…
Not a common pate; this one had caramelisation!
With chips in his freezer, this eased his deprivation!
Chips, pate, tomatoes for his palettes delectation…
He loves his comfort food, and that’s no exaggeration,
He now accepts his loneliness and being Godforsaken…
First, though, this blog to do; he also loves his scriptitations!
Due to my taking so long to do the ode, a shortened version. Sorry!
After falling asleep early last night, I sprang awake at 01:30hrs. Wee-wee, wash, wee-wee.
Sorted out a waste bag or two, passed wind, and shot to the wet room to utilise the Porcelain Throne – Trotsky Terence controlled – Messy! Decided to get the ablutions done. A lot of cleaning was already needed after the almost liquid evacuations.
Got the computer on. I loaded pictures from yesterday.
Latest local Covid figures.
I’m assuming Tuesday night, a meal from earlier, not positive as to which day it was on. But Dementia Doreen is not letting me access the old memory easily at this moment. She is a bugger!
Getting back into the room after ablutionalisationing. The legs, ankles and feet were looking a little less battered about. But Arthur Itis and Cathy’s Cartilage were giving me some sticks.
Carer Richard arrived. Looking well done in after his shift. He said he had another call to make, so he could not stop for a decent natter. But still gave me a few minutes, bless him.
Herbert kept me company over the next couple of hours as I started updating yesterday’s blog. Got it finished as Herberts stopped his banging and clanging. Which was nice not to hear.
I took a break, and hobbled around the flat, did the belated balance exercises, and did a bit of bending, but this routine was restricted by Cathy and Arthur Itis. But no Dizzy Dennis visits yet. Yehaa!
Facebooked on TFZ and Winwood Heights pages. Did some WordPress Reading, then Comments reading and answered. Computing again, I Finished and posted the blog.
Made a start on the ode for this blog. The ideas were coming so fast I could hardly type them fast enough… thus it took me hours and hours to get it finished, and a multitude of errors had to be corrected.
Herbert gave me good hours of bangs, scraping noises, tap-tapping, and finishing his concert with a proper crunch-thud. Silence after that? I hope the haughty, snobby, pompous gentleman has not injured himself and is not lying up there, bleeding in agony.
I put the computer in sleep mode, rose from the swivel chair, and went into the balcony to have a moment’s peace. Took the Canon camera with me and shot the end car park
RVM, the Red-Van-Man van, had parked even further into the yellow chevron No Parking Zone. Still, it is not too important an issue with all the murders, prison escapes, stabbings, and children being mauled and killed by dogs.
I pressed on with the blog, but tiredness overcame me. It does that occasionally, I’ve noticed!
I called my Precious Jillie (Ex Carer) to see if she’ll be in tomorrow, and I can drop off the flowers for her. (Assuming that J Sainsbury’s delivers them and not a block of lard as one of their famous substitutes!) Luckily she agreed. So on the way down to get some cash from the hole in the wall.
I can pop them into Jill’s home, go to the bank, and then Ozan, the Continental Shop, for their delicious vegetarian beef, sausages and sourdough bread (Not on order from JS). No doubt some other bits that will catch my eye.
I turned off the computer, planning to get my meal, head down, and wake alter to complete the blog-finishing mission.
I got the nosh prepped and served up. Potato fries, finely crushed tomatoes, veggie bacon, and a pot of the delicious instant mash with veg sausage bits and a gravy flavour. Not a mixture one would usually have, but I was tired, confused, and a smidge fed-up at the time. But it tasted okay, and I ate most of it. Taste Rating: 7/10.
Stripped and washed, I got down in the £300 second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable, unfit-for-use, not working recliner, underneath a blanket. Determined to get to sleep…
On the verge of nodding off, I realised I was naked, and the Carer was due in about an hour… So, not wanting to make the mistake of greeting a Carer with no trousers on again, I got some jammie bottoms, and a t-shirt on, about to get back down in the chair, and needed a wee-wee rather urgently, and made my way to the bucket…
I stubbed my toe on the wheel of the recliner as I lost my balance… banged my already painful Arthur Itis and Cathy Cartilage patella on the arm of the chair, swore, nearly pee’d myself but got there in time… had a somewhat sad wee-wee, and emptied the now nearly-full NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket), washed and disinfected it.
Eventually, I got resettled in the recliner. Once again, on the verge of drifting off to sleep… and ♫Oh, Susana♫ chimed from the doorbell, and Carer Valerie came in. I was not entirely with it, but she got me sorted, and unknown to me at the time, she washed meal things for me. Bless her!
Gave up, got up, and got back on the Computer. Sleep had been taken of of my agenda now. I turned the TV on to watch a Heartbeat episode, nodded, and missed the last ten minutes.
I cheered up a bit when the Card Reader started working again, and I got this photographicalisation that I took earlier of semi-puffer clouds. Tsk! I thought I saw a claw, but I can’t find it now.
It is now just gone midnight. And I’ll post this off and try again to get some sleep, Sweet Morpheus permitting, of course.
Ever since the death penalty was abolished in 1965, people in England and Wales who have committed murder have been given mandatory life sentences. However, there is usually a minimum tariff within those life sentences indicating how many years the prisoner should serve before being considered for parole. Across the country, only around 70 prisoners are serving ‘whole-life’ sentences where they will never be released.
Below is a list of some of the killers the Post has reported on who have been given life with a minimum of at least 20 years since 2007. We haven’t included anyone serving their time abroad, such as Neil Entwistle, the Worksop man doing life without parole in the US for killing his wife and daughter.
Peter Brown (below) of Main Street, Kimberley – 40 years for stabbing Darran Lancashire in Kimberley and stabbing Brian Flaherty in Lenton six days later. He was sentenced in 2010, and three years later, he confessed to a third murder of a fellow inmate at HMP Parkhurst on the Isle of Wight back in 1994.
Michael Furniss of no fixed address – 32 years and 11 months for the murder of Andrew Dosiuk in Arnold. (2014)
Damien Fogo of Hungerhill Gardens, St Ann’s – 32 years for shooting Germaine Edwards in Bilborough. (2013)
Peter Smith (left) of West Hill, Skegby, 30 years for bludgeoning neighbour Hilda Owen in Skegby after writing her will and leaving everything to him. He was sentenced in 2008, and his conviction was later overturned, but in 2012 he was found guilty of her murder for the second time, this time receiving life with a minimum of 27 years.
Robert Marcinkiewicz-Szukowski (below) of Rossington Road, Sneinton – 27 years for the murder of Bogdan Nawrocki, whose body has never been found. (2015)
Marcus Barton of Raymede Drive, Bestwood Estate -25 years for the murder of Tony Fisher in Carlton. (2017)
Paul Hutchinson (below) of Stockgill Close, Gamston – 25 years for the murder of Nott’s schoolgirl Colette Aram in 1983. He killed himself in prison nine months after being jailed for her murder. (2010)
Susan Edwards (below) of Dagenham, Essex – 25 years for the 1998 shooting of her parents, William and Patricia Wycherley in Forest Town. (2014)
Christopher Edwards (above) of Dagenham, Essex – 25 years for the 1998 shooting of his father-in-law and mother-in-law William and Patricia Wycherley in Forest Town. (2014)
Jonathan Jones of Barbury Drive, Clifton – 24 years for stabbing John Parker in St Ann’s. (2015)
Susan Bacon of Keeper’s Cottage, near Clumber Park – 24 years for the murder of her gamekeeper husband, Nigel Bacon. (2009)
James McCarthy of Collyer Road, Calverton – 21 years for killing Julie Semper in Mapperley. (2015)
Jemelle Rodney of Mitcham, Surrey – 20 years for stabbing Nathan Somers in Newark. (2013)
Of course, not all of the longest sentences have been handed out to people who have been guilty of murder. Bestwood crime lord Colin Gunn was given 35 years in 2006 for conspiracy to murder Joan and John Stirland in Lincolnshire. John Russell of Northcote Way, Bulwell, was jailed for a minimum of 30 years, and Michael McNee, of no fixed address, was jailed for at least 25 years after both were also found guilty of conspiring to murder the Stirlands. And Gary Hardy of the Copse, Mansfield, was given 20 years in 2008 for conspiracy to supply heroin and amphetamines, money laundering and possession of criminal property.
More Detail on Nottingham Prison…
16 NOTTINGHAM PRISON ESCAPEES!
ALFIE HINDS: Alfred – also known as Alfie-Hinds, was the most famous escapee. Hinds was jailed for 12 years following a £38,000 cash and jewellery robbery in London’s Tottenham Court Road in 1953. But in November 1955, he and another inmate, burglar Patrick Fleming, escaped from Nottingham Prison in Perry Road. The two men had obtained a duplicate key to the prison carpenter’s shop, and they hid there until it was time for their bid for freedom. They stacked wooden window frames and lengths of timber on top of each other, and scaled the pile to reach the top of the 20ft wall.
Once over the wall and into the prison playing field, they used the timber again to get over a lower wall on the other side of the fields. They then broke through a wire fence to escape to the nearby housing estate. The two men got clean away. For the next few months, Hinds was on the run, but he still found time to write letters to newspapers protesting his innocence of the robbery. Fleming was the first to be recaptured, but it was not until August 1956 that 38-year-old Hinds were found in Dublin – 245 days after escaping. (That, however, wasn’t the end of it.
During a High Court appearance in 1957, he escaped from the building and made it all the way to London Airport, where he was arrested on a plane about to take off for Dublin. He broke out of Chelmsford Prison and lived in Belfast for two years before being recaptured. He was released from prison in 1964 and died in 1991.)
Well, you’ve got to admire his determination?
FIVE PRISONERS (1963): Remember the film Porridge where the prisoners escaped during a football match? In August 1963, five prisoners escaped through the wire fence at Nottingham Prison – and the break-out happened during a cricket coaching session on the prison sports ground.
Three of the men escaped in an Austin Cambridge car waiting for them on the grounds of the City Hospital. Police drafted in extra men and tracker dogs to search for the five men, all serving sentences of between seven and eight years for burglary offences. Sadly, the Post archives do not readily indicate when or how they were found.
THREE PRISONERS 1963: It seems late 1963 was a prime time for escape – perhaps something to do with the Great Train Robbery capturing the imagination in August that year (incidentally, train robbers Gordon Goody, Thomas Wisbey and Roy James were held in Nottingham Prison before they were transferred to Parkhurst). In September of that year, three men escaped from Nottingham prison by scrambling over the prison wall.
Police believed that once free of the prison grounds, the men stole a Humber Super Snipe from the car park at Nottingham City Hospital. Again, police set up roadblocks around the city and tracker dogs were used in a bid to capture the trio, all in their mid-30s. They also checked pubs and cinemas around the city. But there is no news on what happened to the men, who served eight-year terms for various offences, including receiving stolen goods and breaking and entering.
20-year-old man (1965): This was an example of the classic ‘escape when they take you to hospital’ technique. On August 31, 1965, a 20-year-old man serving three years for theft and house-breaking was taken to Nottingham City Hospital for a routine X-ray examination. But at the hospital, he managed to get rid of his escort and escape through a bedroom window and onto the roof. He was recaptured and returned to Nottingham Prison after being seen on a rooftop in Old Radford. Police called out Nottingham Fire Brigade, who sent an engine with two ladders to block the escape routes on either side. Policemen shone torches on the man – who was said to be “running like a cat along the rooftops” – and he was recaptured.
Six prisoners (1982): This was such a serious breakout that questions were asked in the House of Commons about how it had been allowed to happen. It involved six men who Home Secretary Willie Whitelaw would later describe as ‘not dangerous’. However, one was serving a life sentence for murder, and the others were serving sentences of between three years and 30 months for a range of offences. However, because they were nearing release – with the convicted murderer about to be transferred to an open prison – they were accommodated in unlocked Nissen huts about 15ft from the perimeter wall.
Just before midnight on July 11, they bolted three-bed frames together to make a ladder, used sheeting to make a rope, and escaped over the wall. Three men were captured in Luton within a few hours, and two more on July 14.
But when Nottingham North MP William Whitlock raised the escape in the House of Commons on July 19, the murderer was still on the run. Mr Whitelaw told him that a report about the escape was being written but that all six men were eligible to be housed in the less-secure huts. Remarkably, the flight over the wall was actually witnessed by another prisoner in the middle of a rooftop protest and hunger strike when it happened. Martin Foran spent 47 days on the prison roof protesting that he was innocent of the charges of armed robbery he had been jailed for, having been convicted in 1978 following an investigation by the now-discredited West Midlands Serious Crime Squad. His wife, who said that he was being unfairly treated because he was Irish, reportedly scaled a nearby roof in a show of solidarity. Mr Foran said he had watched the escape of the six prisoners but had refused to join them. His conviction was quashed in 2014. Abbott later pleaded guilty to wounding concerning the bar attack and escaping custody, aggravated vehicle taking, driving while disqualified and driving without insurance. He was jailed for a total of four years and one month.
A FEW LOCAL NEWS SNIPPETS BONUS
A neighbour shot the rat after taking the photo.
I was dubious in inputting the above of poor Diana on the blog. But decided I felt so sorry for her. As if the lady had not gone through enough already, this had happened to her.
Things stirred back to reality at 05:25hrs, after 6 hours of sleep and various periods of jumping awake. Making a total time being awake of two hours. Does that make sense? Sorry if not.
According to the best I can make out from the scribbled memory notes, the next occurrence was; P.Tarone Enight? Beats me!
I rose like a tried elephant from the c1968 second-hand recliner, grabbed walking stick Metal Mickey, and went to the wet room to get the Ablutions done.
But my dithering nature interfered, and I took the waste bin out of the wet room, emptied the others and made up some waste bags. Took them to the flat door.
It was drizzling outside, and as I put the kettle on, I took a photo of the road to the left of the kitchenette window. Plenty of trees on it get fresh air.
It’s no wonder I’ve never seen a for sale sign on the beautiful looking Cavendish Vale.
The skies were, I thought, ripe for a few minutes of pareidolia. I’m keen on finding figures in the clouds. But on this occasion, I failed to find any. Humph!
Well, apophenia, finding figures in anything, creases, reflections, cracks in floor tiles, and bulging veins. I’m experienced in that one, having more bulging veins than most people.
I made the tea, went to put the milk in, but diverted back to getting the ablutioning done.
Well, once again, it was a fair session. Fair enough, a few teeny-weeny cuts shaving, but no knocks and bangs, dizzies, toe-stubbings or tumbles. I didn’t engage the Smug-Mode… it’s early yet.
I even got out through the door without any shoulder-charging of the frame… Yes, go on then;
Got the laundry bag sorted. Made another mug of tea for the one I let go cold, and Dizzy Dennis gave me a few moments of concern… only a short bout, maybe a minute at most. But it had me holding on to the stick and hastening to sit down. But Dennis disappeared, and I was fine when I stood up? There are no messages from EQ, but I think it may be another semi-harrowing day, somehow?
Sunday’s photograph of the messy mud-slide onto the end car park on Chestnut Way. It has been known for Cataract Kathleen to do this to me! I hope I’ve not put this one on before?
This is this morning’s shot of the same area. I found some more of the indecipherable scrawl on the memory pad here, not the foggiest of what it meant. Try as I did, it remains a mystery,
A sudden robust rumbling from the innards! I was all but too late, getting to the Throne in time in seconds. Trotsky Terence controlled the evacuation. Gawdawfull messy it was! Had to change the PPs (Protection Pants) I’d put on an hour ago! Ah, well, I got everything cleaned up.
Richard arrived late; he’d had a lousy shift, I think. The poor lad looked done in. He still had a look at the SD card for me. Putting it in and out to see if anything changed; and found that the card had split! He took the waste bags out with him for me, with my thanks.
I hope the new card works in the Canon and the reader accepts it. Praying here!I opened the card, full of hope and cut my finger on the plastic! Got it fitted in the camera (not the finger, the SD card), and I tried taking shots that I did yesterday to use here and test the system. Good heavens, it worked! So, I engaged in the use of the, with reservations. As you can see here, it worked.
Outside my Winwood Heights Independent Living block of flats, I hobbled out onto the balcony to look at what was. Conducted my Blood Pressure and temperature checks. SYS 154, DIA 68, Pulse 78, and the body temperature was a decent 34.1°c.
A couple of miles away, I took a zoomed-in shot of HMP, her Majesties Nottingham Prison. And thoughts and questions permeated through… “I bet they can see their prison Doctor or Dentist at any time?”, “They’ll get their cataracts done quicker than I get mine!” “They are not worried about the rent, electricity, food, transport, bus fares, etc. going up?” “Most likely, get their free computers mended for free!” They’ll not worry about forgetting to lock their doors either! Hahaha!
Gawd, he’s been at it again, almost one-stop since morning. Bang, tap-tap, scrape, thud, boing… I did not retaliate. After all, what is the point in haggling with the self-centred, impolite, insensitive, disrespectful, snobbish, haughty, pompous, pretentious, uppity, scoffing, contumelious, smart-alecky, and ineffable, cruel, unsympathetic, toffee-nosed, self-important, nyaff, noisy nasty man?
As luck has it, I like him.
Far too ridiculously late, I made a start on this blog. Of course, something had to go wrong…
Am I the luckiest person on earth, I asked myself?
Of course not!
That honour must go to Steve Fries, the bigwig of Liberty Global, Whose inability to send an uninterrupted internet signal to Nottingham earns him $23 million a year!
Jealous? Me? Yes!
Miraculously, it was only down for a minute or so this time; I felt almost happy about it! Temporarily!
I thought I’d better check to see if any messages or missed calls had been received while I was so busy being mucked about my Herbert and Fries. Still, Herbert entertained me with some clattering-about sounds.
Could I find the phone? No! There was worry but no panic initially. All I had to do, was go through all of my jackets and trousers that I’d worn since I last used the mobile phone (whenever that was). I vaguely remember putting it in a pocket and saying, “Don’t forget that it’s in that pocket!”
Within about ten minutes, I settled for Thursday, when the foot lady texted me telling me I was late for my appointment again… that was in the brain box! I engaged my Sherlock Holmesian Methodology, and first, I worked out when I last went out. Now, what was I wearing? Maroon jacket? Blur jacket? Black trousers, or green trousers? Was I wearing my trousers – nobody said anything.
After a heated discussion with myself, I narrowed it down to the green or black trousers; and the red or blue jacket, all of which were in the laundry bag. Then thought, aha! (I do that sometimes), It might be in the pyjama bottoms, two pairs of them in the laundry. I almost felt confident as I went into the back room to search for the clothing in the bag… I should have known better at my age and after many years of failed memory training!
Well, now I was getting hot under the collar! I smugly checked through every pocket and the bag… not sausage in there. (Not that I was after one, of course, a figure of speech and all that).
A lengthy search in each room and all the clothes hanging up in the front room and the hallway proved a failure, with no mobile to be seen. Of course, if I knew my mobile number, I could ring it and hope I heard it to locate it. Although if it was in a pocket, as I still believed it was, I might not hear it anyway… I rang the desktop dancer and Warden Deana to ask if she could ring the mobile for me, but to was engaged… oh, that reminds me; she is six weeks away from getting married; bless her, and a lucky fellow too… I digress again, sorry. I do tend to do that a lot.
I rummaged, rooted and ferreted about, delving into the most unlikely of places, all to no avail. Then a spark in the brain suggested that it may have fallen and gone underneath the cabinet or recliner? Worth a look, so I did…
I got the torch and was leaning on the arm of the recliner to get low enough to check the sides, with my intentions bravely being, if no success, to get on my knees to look under the chair. But as I was leaning forward and on my left leg – perfect timing from the Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, who gave me a flailing right leg out of control dance… Which naturally had me on the floor in seconds. The spectacles are now in a precariously loose state of repair. Also, I’ve got two newly bruised knees and a red cheek from hitting the arm on the way down!
As I was recovering and considering how to get back up on my feet, Deana came in at just the perfect time! She got me up, made sure things still worked with the legs, and laughed at the (at the time unknown to me) red patch on the cheek that looked like a clown’s make-up! Hahaha! Not really, but she should have.
Deana rang my mobile. I couldn’t hear it. But she found it, under the cover on the back of the computer chair… in a jacket pocket! I am totally losing it, and a twit!
Well, worra day! Again! It’s nearly 1700hrs now, so sleep looks like being late tonight. This blog is not halfway through yet! I pressed on with it like a mini but fat hero, determined to get it up to date…
♫Oh, Susana♫ rang out. I hobbled to the door (It was a pronounced hobble, the right knee was in some pain, Tsk!) and found Josie returning the jar that held the two meals for yesterday. Bless her, I could not hear what she was saying, but plashed a smile, mentioning Betty Bunter, bless her.
Arrived, soon sorted. Then, I had a go at catching up on Facebooking. Then comments on WordPress.