Thought Storming Steve

Inchie Today: Thursday 2nd October 2025

/ Inchie / 7 Comments

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I may be bleeding and painfully limping,
But these encourage me to remain hoping,
For my mind’s problems, there is no remedying,
My brain refuses my efforts at assubjugating,
I argue with myself, it’s antagonising,
Which voice is mine takes some recognising,
Nocturnally, Thought Storming Steve is berating,
Past errors, current ones, it’s so maddening…
Realising Steve is apparently me talking!
He never stops mocking, riling, and admonishing,
Denigrating, belittling, deprecating, derogating,
Amazingly, my hopes are not diminishing,
Despite his vilifying, discrediting, & excoriating,
I’m doing it again, blaming Steve, who is surely me?
My efforts to get help have been nugatory…
I own up to my mentality now in inadequacy,
Yet my responses to problems of similarity,
Vary so much, from depression to hilarity,
For in there somewhere, theoretically…
Is hope, hoping for help, but antediluvially,
Hope that the seizures will go away…
With the physical ailments, mahap one day,
My brain & body to again act harmoniously,
I now recognise mending my mind and body…
The very thought of it is pretty silly,
Yet hope lingers, despite the futility,
Things I believe happened do not stand scrutiny,
Yet at the time, I saw truth and credibility,
No doubt, no question, no need for justifiability,
With vagueness and doubts, I have to act cautiously…
Self-antagonism, self-hatred, even hostility,
When on a good day, I realise I’ve made errors aplenty…
Apportioning my hopes is not done clinically,
Whether for help with my heart failing, or my angiopathy,
But I cling to hope, hopefully!
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Good Morning
Calling the Community Nurses tonight, Carer Ejaz was on the phone for ages and was finally told to ring the Doctor’s Surgery. To point out the state of the feet.
Now this is something that would strike fear into any old person. Poor Ejaz rang them. I have no idea about what happened with the feet, but I heard him ask about the flu and the COVID jab. Three times he got cut off! On the fourth effort, he was told they would ring me – at this, Ejaz proved his worth again. The lad asked them to email me, as I’m hard of hearing. He’s not sure, but they said they would text me on the mobile. Of course, that was 7 hours ago, and still no text has come through. The nurse who was supposed to administer a memory test has not arrived. The Social Lay has not arrived. The Neurosurgeon has not contacted me yet. No signs of the Red Cross Support Team. And the Age Concern lady has not been in touch yet. There’s always hope. 
Ejaz gave me a good check over today. Body welts, acne, and eczema. Phorpain gelled both of Arthur Itis’s knees, Cartilage Chloe, and foamed the Lymphorrhea Leslie’s legs and ankles. He’s a good lad for me to have visiting as a Carer. He even checked the Health Check monitoring to ensure I hadn’t made a mistake. Well, it has been known. Hehe!
He noted that the foot and ankle were looking better and took this snap on the left. On his last call of the day, we found that the leg’s Lymphoedema was leaking again. If it is in the morning, he’ll inform the district nurses. Not that either of us thinks that it will do us any good. We must try. 

I’ven’t got up so late in many a month. 07:15hrs. I was doing the ablutions and on the Throne when Ejaz arrived to sort me out. Glad to report that Constipation Konrad has lost some of his grip on the evacuations; still needed input to get moving, but once it started, it was easy-peasy.

I checked the emails and got a shock of a lifetime. Over £2000 less than last month in my account. I’m hoping that whoever volunteered to review my finances arrives before I run out of cash.

Photos Taken.

Ejaz sorts the prescription medications drawer.

Made a brew in the little mug.

Last leg check. Looking less marked now.

Nosh.

🤞🏻TTFN, EACH! 🤞🏻

Inchy Today: Saturday 12th April 2025

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

I love it!
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Ode OldSELF-ASSESMENT
What is causing me all this strife,
I’ve no hopes, no hair, no wife…
Few teeth and avoid any lowlife,
I don’t enjoy any high life….
My ailments that are ignored but rife,
I’m kind to people and wildlife,
I’ve purposely avoided being altercative,
My mind, at best, is approximative!
I may get better, but only if…
The brain stops going adrift…
The medics understand me, get my drift,
Anne Gyna leaves my chest, neck & midriff,
Then I can feel less aggrieved!
And, a miracle can be achieved!
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Catch-up
Think I missed these snaps of the red moon last night. It’s a reasonable effort for me.
Well pleased with this one!
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I got a call on the intercom. The man muttered something and disappeared. I thought this might have been the Amazon delivery of the beef and day catheter pouches. While waiting for them to be delivered to the door, I checked the Amazon tracker, which told me they had been delivered. There was no sign of it coming up. I bet the rascally driver has left them in the foyer lobby!
I had to get dressed, and went down with the three-wheeled walker and stick to investigate.
Sure enough, there were two bashed-up boxes on the lobby floor. The problem was that one was for a flat on the tenth floor, and the other was for a smaller one, mine. I could get that box on top of the wheeler, and I did. A lady’s name was on the other parcel, and as I took my box up, I stopped to tell her about the box in the lobby. I explained that I’d go back down after dropping my box at my flat, provided nobody had nicked it, and I’d bring it up for you.
So, I went up to my flat. I think both boxes had been looked into, but my two items were there. I went back down to the ground floor. The lady’s box was still there, and I realised how heavy it was.
I felt a smidge of pride in helping out, like others had done for me. Gawd, it was hard work. I could only balance the box on top of the walker and almost staggered up to the lady’s flat with the box. I should think the fastest I managed to move could have been half a mile an hour. Hehe! I almost lost it getting out of the lift. Phew! But I got to the flat and put the box inside for her.

Envri almost delivered it. Surely they can see it is an elderly persons warden-aided complex here? Or not.

At least it tired me out enough, I hoped, for me to get to sleep quicker than usual. Huh!

0640hrs: Again, I say again… I woke up without any , , and was just not there! Oh, if only this could happen regularly. It felt great! Mind you, I think I had six hours kip! Yee-Har!

I knew I had a lot to do on the blog catching up, so I finished Fridays as soon as possible.
Then I got carried away doing the ode, which I was very much struggling with for some unknown reason.

Carer Ahmen arrived. We chatted as he put on the diabetic socks. He graded the urine, and I went to empty the nocturnal catheter bag. Grungleslapnerds!
I only found that I’d left the hot water tap running again, and it must have been for a long time because the water was icy! So, no showering, shaving, or cleaning up now! It won’t be until tonight when the night heater kicks in to warm it up.
It’s just as well; I’d have much more time to waste making messes and mistakes on the ode. Humph!

Ahmed returned for the 2nd call of the day.
Whilst he was here, Anne Gyna kicked-off!
I also have a Peptac guzzle as Reflux. Roger joined in the onslaught.

There were a few mini-seizures; at one stage, they were on and within seconds of each other!

Once more, the day seems to have flashed before my eyes. I’m going to get something to eat now.

The sun went in.

A SHOWER-OF-SEIZURES FOR AN HOUR!
Mini-Myoclonic seizures, with a few of the Ménière’s thrown into the mix. My inbred, one of my oldest ailments , was on and off all day.
This bout of them left me tired out and weary beyond the realms of possibility. I was done for! All in. So the computer was abandoned early.
I made a meal.
I ate it in an artistic fashion. Spilling some of it on my chest, legs, dressing gown and kaghoule.
Why, you ask? (I hope) I kept falling asleep! Something of a miracle that I didn’t drop the whole lot along with the tray it was on! Oh, I found some on the £300 second-hand shop bought, c1966. moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly-beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working recliner.
It was an effort getting up to sort things out and wash the pots, but I’m glad I did. The moon was in view, so I fetched Kodak Tim 2 to take a photo of it.
Nice!

I foolishly tried to stay awake to see the highlights of Nottingham Forest’s match. Zzzz!
I was waking up so often that I’m not sure I had more than three hours of actual sleep.
The full works tonight that I’d hoped I would sleep like a baby, being so drained. But, No! 
I recall being rudely awakened by ,  , ,  , , and . But there may have been others in the onslaught. Oh, yes, I remember, & .
Each time I was woken, I needed to sort out what was happening. I seemed annoyed and a little out of it.
At one stage, I just had to get and use the toothache spray from the computer desk. I stubbed my toe against the Ottoman as I moved back to the hospital bed! But I think I was soon back in the land of nod again after each visit—not for long, of course. The next ailment soon arrived to join in the nocturnal ‘Let’s-Bugger’ Inchy’s sleep-up routine. I think that had it not been for the damned seizures leaving me so done in, I could have coped with the lack of sleep, instead of getting annoyed and sorry for myself, which no doubt helped bring on the  again.
Not one of better nights.

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TTFNski!
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Inchy Today: Monday 17th March 2025

/ Inchie / 16 Comments

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Too much, too little, is there anymore?
Front, side, bedroom, or living room door?
Rich, impecunious, oligarch or poor?
Balerina, Waltzer, or mayhap a bebopper?
Loyal, lover, husband, wife or bedhopper?
Alcho, wino, smoker or a teetotaller?
Perishable, eternal, dead or maternal?
Colchester, Uttoxeter, or Westminster?
Mistake-maker, MP or a grammaticaster?
Veggieburger, beefburger, or Gothenburger?
Mechanical, agricultural, or an inventor?
Alfred, Timothy, Paul, Doug or St. Peter?
Tested, tried, angsted, depressional or infernal?
Jailer, janitor, justificator or justifier?
Undaunted, heroic, rock-solid or a dodderer?
Decisive, determined, a deluder or kowtowerer?
Executioner, killer, butcher or a lecher?
Rolls Royce, BMW, Robin Reliant or lawnmower?
Massive, mountainous, mightier, or miniature?
A mover, manoeuvre, monster or misnomer?
Negotiator, nominator, narrator or negator?
An optimiser, organiser, observer or objecter?
Procrastinator, profiter or prognosticator?
Take a sweetener, gratuity, or a backhander?
An aberration, dementia, or cacodemonomania?
Presumpter, hypothesiser, or outright liar?
Most choices would suit Herr Starmer!
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I had another night of waking-ups. Danged if I know what was causing the jerking awakes. As far as I know, there were no Eric’s electric shocks up the leg. Anne Gyna didn’t wake me. No Shuddering Shoulder Shirley or PN leg shakes. Can’t remember any movements from Twitching-Neck Nigel, either. It may have been Thought-Storming Steve, but I’d usually remember after he calls on me. Just another of the Mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, or the Fata Morganas that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind, which is causing me to lose my marbles? I’m just crumbling physically & mentally!
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I surrendered my thoughts of getting any sleep – yet again, as the worries and concerns of my current position took hold of my brain cells. The needs of the day were pondered over. The Iceland delivery. Ringing the Social Lady about the lack of a laundry service, financial assistance, domestic assistance, and the Prescription routine that I can’t grasp, leaving me short of tablets. I had been hoping to get these services from the new carers. Lovely carers; I would have run out of Warfarin had Akmar not called on his way home at the chemist, who rang the Doctor and issued some, which he brought to me. Thanks, mate! Now, the daunting task of mopping the wet room, washing, and hanging some nightshirts and socks is not easy with Metal Mickey, the four-pronged walking stick, being used simultaneously. It was a blessing & treat that at least was not in attendance. So, I decided to wash some socks and shirts. The dressing gowns are too heavy for me to handle, and despite having about six gowns, five of them are still in the laundry bag, waiting to be taken to the laundry. What I’m going to do, I don’t know! Ringing the chemist and Social Services to plead for help is my only option. Finally, I forced myself out of bed and emptied the nocturnal pouch.
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I sorted the laundry bag contents. I took out the socks and long nightshirts, aiming to handwash them and hang them on coat hangers to drip dry. The socks were above the kitchen sink, and the shirts were in the wet room and hung on the shower rail. Three Kagoules on the shower rail, and then I went back to the kitchenette to get the socks done and hung, in the kitchen sing. On my way back, the left hand started with ‘cramps’, with Arthur Itis joining in when I returned to the kitchen. It was so painful, and it looked well-gnarled to me. I took a photograph of the hand. I’m not used to so much hand-wringing. I think that was probably the cause of the bother. Next, I had the pleasure of struggling with the Yoahoules and ended up with cramps and Arthritis in my left hand from all the wringing out. I got all three finished. I might add that it was, putting it lightly, painful. Hehe!
I got them hung up in the wet room on the shower rails. I don’t think I can cope with this handwashing. Well, I can, I suppose, but it’s not the easiest of jobs. At one stage, I had a mini seizure and got water over the sink, floor, and me! In three days, they will have to be done again. Using the immersion heater to dry the clothes must be costing me a fortune. Humph!
at the very thought of it. I rang the NCC Social to point out what I’m struggling with. I got a recorded message: This number is temporarily out of order.
Fancy that, me being unlucky! Humph!
Then, I had to clean up the mess from the spilt water, during which I splashed a little more, and the Water Alarm activated. I didn’t get a call from NCC Control, so I assumed it was because their phones were out of action. I just have to keep smiling and have a glimmer of hope in my heart! Grottleburgers & Huh!

I’m EPO now. Extremely Pissed Off!
I made a brew of Glengetti and dunked a large cookie while looking out the window and feeling sorry for myself. I’m doing a lot of that lately. And has still not visited me yet, today. Just an extended spell of several hours of . Grumph!

A house below in the view was pumping out steam or smoke. It didn’t last long, though. Steam, I think, cause it evaporated quickly, as it shows in the picture. I thought I’d taken another shot of the been-done-up house.
But can I find it? No!

ICELAND FOOD ARRIVED.
Many items are not available, but it is a Monday.
The driver took the bags into the kitchen for me.
Cleaning paraphernalia.
Another insane Inchy glitch!
The cakes were part of a special of 5 for £5.
I thought I’d ordered only one and four other items.
Another Inchy Whoopsiedangleplop there!
The six bags of Cheez-Its were stored away.

Great news. The clock calendar has got to cyber-friend Tim in Albuquerque. He sent this photo via email. I’m so glad he liked it. About time I could do something for him. Instead of the other way.

I repeatedly tried to reach NCC Social Care in the afternoon, but the phones were still down.
So I called the prisons… I mean, the flats ILC (Independent Living Coordinator), Oberstgrüppenfuhreress Warden and Primo Ballerina, Deana. , who kindly told me to ring back later if I couldn’t get through. I couldn’t get through two more times, so I rang her back. After explaining my concerns, she kindly said she would try another line and rang me back an hour later.
But I got it wrong somewhere along the line, and it was the Carer Company that she rang. So I still need to let the Social lady know tomorrow.
The lady told Deana that the laundry, domestic, and Financial assistance are all known to the caregivers, and the ones today knew nothing about them.
So, I’ve got to carry on hand washing until someone tells the carers. Still, these things must happen when they are hastily called to take me on. I’m not sure how they will manage them during the duration of their ten-minute calls. No doubt things will get sorted eventually. I’m just getting more profoundly in the poo with the bank and tax letters, the laundry, and the medications routine I need to do. No, the Carer’s boss said they are to do the medications; again, they (the Caregivers) know nothing about this. It may come out alright eventually or drive me to suicide… you decide. Hehehe! Only joking! If anyone wants to buy five dirty dressing gowns and a laundry bag, I can supply them with softener and laundry capsules at a fair price. Haha!.

I really must get something to eat now.
As Arnie said, “I’ll be back!” Har-har!

I snapped the meal, but it was not on the card or Camera Tim 2. It seemed to have somehow ended up in the ether again.

Photo from earlier.
Can you see the octopus?

I spoke with Carer Ahmed about the problem with the tasks I’m paying for not being done. We agreed that the medications I did last Monday would be taken over by him, and the chemist would be contacted each Monday starting next Monday. I will ask him if he can call the chemist if he calls while they are open so I can clarify what exactly needs to be done datewise, etc., and the timings.
I think we might be getting somewhere here.

It was very late by the time I got my head down for yet another ever-waking-up night’s lack of sleep. 

I’d not had a shower or shave, and this blog has much left to do. Tomorrow, it will be another late finishing time, likely in the afternoon. But no blame is being passed to anyone. The two carers who said they did not know of the Financial, domestic, or laundry requirements seem decent chaps. They are time-constrained. Is that the right word? 

Once things are clarified, I expect the Carers to start running more smoothly when we all know what’s what and arrange things so they have the time to get things done. I pray! Fingers crossed.

Tomorrow will be even busier, so less will be done on Tuesday’s blog.
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TTFNski!
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Inchy: Saturday 15th February 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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I met with the Doctor & we nattered,
There was talk of my being neutered?
After the local gal who I’d carefully nurtured!
My emerging passions looked numbered,
I’d misheard; it was the hearing aids I needed,
I went to Ivy; she said she had been nominated,
I made my move. Is she ready to be mated?
Then, I asked if things could be negotiated,
Mentioned about me being buried or cremated?
Without thinking, I said I was getting hornier,
And she threw me into a corner…
Over the years, as I have grown older,
Ivy moved to live in Oxfordshire,
Ah, our first fumbling manoeuvre,
It was far from being ordinaire,
I thought I heard an orchestra…
She was older, a good instructor…
I thought our romping was over,
Now, 70 years later, I bumped into her,
She too, now had a pacemaker,
We went to the flat, we started to perspire,
The amour flowed, she looked even prettier,
Passion and satisfaction we did acquire,
We repeatedly satiated our desire…
I got weary, but I wasn’t a quitter.
I wished I was 70 years younger…
As I rolled off, and she had vodka…
Belatedly, I answered, ‘I’d prefer being cremated!’
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03:30hrs: I jumped back into mock life with the two-morning regulars  and shot up the right leg from, I assume, coming from  . Which made me take this snap of the ankle. It’s definitely better than it has been for a day or two. 
I got the Nocturnal Cather pouch detached from the day bag. I got the kettle to make a brew using two of Thompson’s Punjana tea bags. They seem so weak nowadays. A little like what I am! Hahaha!

I adjusted the old-fashioned Clock Calendar near the computer on the 1962 Hopewells E-Plan cabinet with the laptop on top of it. And the hinges, broken doors and discoloured, cracked top, and three draws with only two openable.

I made up the waste bags into one and put it near the door
Then, as I made the brew of Punjana, I took this shot of the view from the kitchen.
Then, after forgetting to drink the tea, I meandered into the wet room to utilise the Porcelain Throne, initially.
COR BLIMEY!
I got myself settled on the plastic seat, and nothing would evacuate. What a change from yesterday’s almost liquid ten-second evacuation! After a few tentative urges and no response other than pain, I got the crossword book and pen. 
I even got a few answers in as well.
But then again, I had plenty of time once the monster torpedo crept out a little… and that was it for fifteen minutes more pain as the unmoving brute stretched everything stretchable!
I could feel the warm blood on my bum, then my legs.
Finally, things began to move again, but so slowly.
There was at last relief as the beast dropped almost with a thundering thud… and the water shot up and spray cleaned the blood on my bottom for me. Haha! Joking there! 
I soon got myself and the blood cleaned up. 
Then started the ablutionalisationings. Teeth first, then I started shaving. The strange hairs growing on my neck just didn’t want to be cut again. I tried all three pairs of razors. Humph! Why it bothers me so much, I don’t know.

While finishing off the shaving, Carer Christopher arrived nice and early. I did a quick medicationing of the Acne & Eczema, Harold’s Haemorrhoids, the crutch and man breasts.
Christopher gave me the medications, got my socks on and went above the call, and shaved those damned hairs off of my neck and up my head. They were growing now!
Much appreciated that. How come for forty years no growth, now it starts? Another of the many mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, or the Fata Morganas that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind, which is losing its marbles?
Or, not like. Haha!

ANOTHER MYSTERY!
Could I find my Kodak Tim mark2 camera?
Unbelievable! After a half-hour search, I gave up. Yet felt confident I’d find it later. Which I did… 8 hours later.
The real mystery is how I couldn’t find it in the first place. Once I saw it, I remembered putting it on top of the microwave when making a brew earlier. Sad, innit? Still, in the searching sessions, I did find the sink unplugger. That was underneath the hospital bed. I know, I know! And the toothache spray was underneath the 1962 Hopewells E-Plan cabinet with the laptop on top of it. With the hinges, broken doors, discoloured, cracked top, and three draws, only two openable.

So, there are a few photos for today’s blog.

Carer Joanne did the midday call. She helped me sort some paperwork. Thank’s gal. The seizures, absent previously, started kicking off when Joanne was here.
And they repeated for different lengths of time until teatime arrived. Then, eased off a little.

I made a food order for next week. JS Tue 6>10:00hrs.

Carer Christopher made the late call. Took my diabetic socks off. He returned the involuntarily pee’d-on slippers that had been washed for me. Much appreciated that.

Battered fishcakes, and some with tomato ketchup in the centre. Both are from Iceland. Both delicious! I used up all the remaining fresh garden peas. Lovely! The pickled beetroot was soft enough not to bother my remaining crumbling teeth. The thing that lowered the taste rating a smidge was the terrible sour-tasting mini-tomatoes, Spanish.
An unexpected bonus tonight, well, three!
One: Not a single seizure while eating the meal. 
Two: Eric’s Electric Right-Leg Shocks didn’t strike once!
Three: Twitching-Neck-Nigel did jerk once while eating!

I got the things washed up and found the watchable TV programmes were all on the same two channels, straight through for four hours, ending up with Match of the Day.
I settled into the second-hand, c1968, eyesorely-horrendously grungy beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, microorganism-microbe producing, moth-eaten, beige-coloured, non-working, bacillus encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, c1968 recliner, with a bottle of soda water.
I watched a Del Boy episode, then a Dad’s Army, and turned over to watch the football highlights on BBC 1.
I didn’t even see the start of any match. I slipped off into a deep sleep. It felt like I shot awake a minute or so later… but no! It was three hours later, as the football intro music and credits came up for the end of the matches!

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TTFNski!
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Inchy: Friday 14th February 2025

/ Inchie / 12 Comments

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SMUG MODE ENGAGED
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Continued from yesterday
This Friday, I feel horrible and grottier…
More depressed than when I was a gravedigger,
Mindful of failures, thoughts gongoozler,
I mustn’t moan & be a gossipmonger,
Emotions, thoughts like a mental-galumpher,
A change in my luck would be a game-changer!
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Plots, decision-making harder, see a headshrinker?
Depression strikes; it’s like getting a mental haymaker,
With sudden spots of uncaring contentment, however,
Following each low, it seems scarier, hairier,
The Sod ’em mode returns with spirits even higher?
Depression; I’m becoming a Harrumpher!
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What I’d give for a sanity-reinstaller,
Now my thoughts have caught implicature,
I’m worried about life’s confusing infrastructure…
And the brain neurotransmitters & infostructure,
I’m feeling much more insecure…
Oddly, on the lows, I feel so immature!
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When on a high, I’m no joypopper,
In fact, I can be a bit of a jester,
On a low, my mind was like a junketeer,
Back comes a high, & I’m joyfuller,
Doing a crossword, or a jigsaw,
These up moments are much janglier!
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On a high: Life seems so much kinder,
A low, life gets instantly knottier,
They’re like a mental-kneecapper,
A high returns, back to things kindlier
Depression, again, is a mental killer!
I feel done up like a kipper!
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I feel I could turn back to the liquor…
With depression sent me by Lucifer,
In life, I’m just a leaseholder…
The home had no electricity but a walk-in larder,
The shop I had turned out to be a lossmaker,
Now depressions, life is lurider!
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Hello! I’m feeling mirthfuller!
Or is this, though, just misconjecture?
I don’t want to misinfer,
But I feel far less mustier,
Huh! depression back, the meddler,
Suddenly, I’m back in an emotional mire!
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Seizures can affect people differently, depending on which part of the brain is involved. I know!

Some seizures cause the body to jerk and shake, while others cause problems like loss of awareness or unusual sensations. They typically pass in a few seconds or minutes.
Seizures can occur when you’re awake or asleep. Sometimes, something can trigger them, such as feeling very tired after exercising. I’ve got them…

Simple partial (focal) seizures or ‘auras’
A simple partial seizure can cause:
A general strange feeling that’s hard to describe.
I’ve got these as well…

A “rising” feeling in your tummy – like the sensation in your stomach when on a fairground ride.
(Too true!) I’ve got them…

A feeling that events have happened before (déjà vu).
Spot on! I’ve got them…

Unusual smells or tastes.
(Oh, yes), I’ve got them…

Neurological Tingling in your arms and legs. An intense feeling of fear or joy.
(Too true!) I’ve got them as well…

Stiffness or twitching in parts of your body, such as an arm, joint, or hand. Twitching Neck Nigel, Shoulder Shuddering Shirley, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete Hitler Salutes, & Leg Dances – got them all!

You sometimes remain awake and can often be unaware while this happens. I know, I’ve got them too!

These seizures are sometimes known as “warnings” or “auras” because they can be a sign that another type of seizure is about to happen.
Yes, I’ve got these, as well!


Tonic seizures: Your muscles can suddenly become stiff, like the first stage of a tonic-clonic seizure. This might mean you lose balance and fall over.
I went tumbled twice yesterday!

If you have a seizure, your GP may refer you to a specialist to determine the cause. Hahaha!

You’ll usually see a neurologist, an expert in conditions affecting the brain and nerves.
I’ve done that, waiting for surgery. Hope they can remove Dementia Doreen. Hehe!

They’ll want to find out more about your seizure and may suggest having some tests.
The Doctor? Not mine!
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Depressed for so long today!
Can’t shake them off, but I keep going into the opposite state, a sort of ‘Sod It’ I’m Not Bothered’ mode every now and then?
Singing, uncaring, amazing. The up modes are rare but lovely despite them being short periods. ‘Deep-Depression-Duncan’ (DDD) keeps returning for no apparent reason?
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I had a decent but short sleep. I nodded off early and sprang awake in a DDD mood at 03:30hrs.
Changed the catheter bags, and visited the wetroom..
Beyond Messy!

Had a wash and did the medication, no shaving.
The right ankle ulcer looked less inflamed than yesterday. Electric shocks have been shooting up my right leg on and off all day today. The seizures were less frequent than usual, although I did have one before getting the computer on. That lasted for an aeon. Well, it felt like it. But I did no work on the computer. I found that I’d changed the clock calendar.

I got myself all involved in doing some more word-finding for the Odes. I’m addicted. I have no idea why. I spent hours on Word Hippo. I still have not completed the first file!

Carer Chris and then Carer Joanne made the first two calls.

In the late afternoon, I went to make a brew of tea in a vain effort to rid myself of DDD. The garden man had another fire on the go, so I got the Kodak Tim and took two snaps.
The fire looked a little larger than on Thursday.
At one stage, I thought the trees may set alight.
But no, all was well. The chap seems in control.
But what is he burning? Doesn’t matter really.

I got the blog done and sent it off to WP. Then, I went on the WP reader. Some great posts on there today

Caught the sun, a rarity in the sky today.
I don’t think there will be a sunset tonight.

Went on the WP comments.

I’m waiting for the teatime Caregiver, so I plan to prepare a meal. Potato cakes, perhaps? With garden peas? Nordic bacon? Beetroot? Pickled onions?
Of course, if DDD returns, I may not bother eating at all. But I hope I’m not tempted like I was last night to crack open the cider and beer. I didn’t, but it was a close thing! I’m sick to death of these repeating low spells today; I hope DDD does not return again. Dare I dream?

Potato cakes, fishcakes, tomatoes, beetroots.
A simple meal for a simple dimwit.
I loved it!
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I washed the pots and settled into the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966, moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not-working recliner to watch an episode of my favourite, ‘Heartbeat’, on the TV. Which I did. As I sat there in a ‘high-mode-mood’, enjoying the storyline, and the commercials came on the box, I thought it advisable to nip and check in the kitchen to make sure I’d not left the tap running, the oven on, or the fridge and freezer door ajar. So, I did just that!
As I stood up to catch my balance, I felt my left foot was wet, which made me investigate… Yes! Once again, the release valve on the day the catheter had opened was probably my fault, and I’d involuntarily peed into my slipper!

Now, I faced the dauntingly painful task of getting the wet sock off. What a struggle! I had to stick the picker-upper-grabber on the toe end of the sock and try to pull the foot away to start freeing the sock. Bearing in mind the agony from as I bent the knee, I gave that effort up.
I got the diabetic sock as far down as I could with the help of the picker-upper-grabber. This was not very successful—a little like me in life! I took a tumble. But an hour later, I felt exhausted after struggling to get back up. However, at long last, I’d got the sock off. I think I ought to apply for some kind of medal? Hehehe!

I had to soak the socks in powder and disinfectant in the sink’s bowl. Then, I used the carpet cleaner and freshener around the recliner spillage area. I spread tons of kitchen towels and trod on them again several times.

I was exhausted and was now suffering from the attentions of Back-Pain-Brenda, Cartilage Chloe, Electric Shocking Sherida, and Anne Gyna.

I sprayed the slipper and put it in with the laundry for washing.

I rinsed the diabetic socks I’d left soaking, wrung them out, and put them on a coat hangar to dry above the kitchen sink.

The next job was to clean the left foot. I used the overworked kitchen bowl again. Throughout these disablingly painful procedures, Dark Dank Depression Duncan did not bother me, nor, as far as I’m aware, did I have any seizures.

Carer Chris did the last check call. No socks to take off tonight. Amazed that I’d taken off myself. (So was I, Humph!)
The lad took the laundry bag with the socks down for me, along with the waste bag.

Life can be so disturbing & worrying. Hehe!
Every Day a Challenge…
Well, bring them on, mush!

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All the ‘Best of Luck’ sent through the ether!

Inchy: Thursday 13th February 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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I no longer seek an admirer,
Anyone to be an adorer,
One thing I’d like to acquire…
Is for someone to answer,
From someone like an augurer,
Why my life’s not been aglitter!
: : : :
To say why life’s been a bugger!
I’d have liked to have been brainier,
I tried to be a bagpiper,
To have been less of a blunderer,
I was born to become a blooper,
In life, I’ve always felt like a beginner…
: : : :
Not that I want to be a complainer.
With age, I’ve become more crotchetier,
I was never a gambler or cardplayer,
I didn’t want to become a conqueror,
I was bare, down to earth, not cavalier,
I admit to being a clodhopper.
: : : :
I’d sooner have been a dragonslayer,
But in reality, I’m more of a doomsayer,
Generally, I’ve fallen into disfavour,
Making me become a despairer,
Life’s becoming ever-drearier,
Harassed by seizures and dementia,
: : : :
Ailments taught me to be an endurer,
I should press on – but don’t feel too eager,
Should I see a medic or physic-examiner,
I not looking for a life-extender…
More interested in being an escaper,
The bliss of being an Earth expirer.
: : : :
Looking back, I wish I’d been flirtier,
I turned out funnier but freakier,
Like Keir Starmer the UK Führer,
A new movement must foregather,
With leaders up for going farther…
I bet it’ll be a pensioner or farmer!
: : : :
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– –Doing Well, Again!– –
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I’m so sorry, but depression is rampant.
Overriding the electric shocks up the leg.
Thankfully, Anne Gyna has been easy on me.
Can’t win them all! Humph!
Creativity is a minimum, as is the desire to bother.
I apologise again.
I’m still making up the 200 files I permanently deleted a month ago in readiness for my return to real life. I just can’t concentrate and have this overpowering desire to replace some of the word sheets from scratch. Nothing else got done much at all, really. I did get the early morning ablutions, shower, and shaving done by 06:30hrs because the ups and downs regularly changed to a ‘Sod it all, I’m not bothered’ happiness. To the other extreme of frustration and depression, especially early today. I was up at 03:30hrs, waking in a ‘Sod it all, I’m not bothered’ mode that kept reversing. No middle-of-the-road, either unstoppably on a high or sinking back into depression. 
I’d done the shaving, showering, and medicationalisations, and they were all on a high note. All finished and sank down again. Then I got this bug to make up some lost word lists from scratch. Done nothing else, really; I just can’t get it together.

I took a few pictures this morning, but the afternoon was spent on this stupid idea of making up some word lists.
I still do not have them on the blog, but I’ve started on it, although it will be sparse. I’ve used the camera for some photos and left the SD card from last night in the computer thingy slot. So, I hope they can be got at them. I’ll give it a go now… with a bonkers guilt about stopping the word list-making. This is just not natural. But what is?
I will book an appointment in the morning for any time I can get into the surgery with the Doctor; I’m genuinely worried now with Anne Gyna and the Seizures being so regular. The Catheters are getting cunning now, although they have not given way yet today. That threat remains. I need to make time to write down things that I am concerned about, and I will try to be more forceful and make her listen to them all. But I forget so quickly… I’m determined to.
There may not be a blog for a few days, but I’ll try to make a few notes and keep you all informed. Let’s see if I can access the photos taken, not that there are many.

Well, it took me ages and repeated tries, but I got them into CorelDraw on the fourth attempt. I thought the computer would let me save them this time.
Yee-Ha!
0345hrs Morning shot.

Rubbish bag to the doorway.

I had never had so many cuts shaving before. Shuddering Shoulder Shirley was the main culprit; after shaving, she stopped again. Huh! Still, they were all tiny ones and didn’t bleed a lot. And I didn’t bang my head!
The ankle ulcer had some odd-looking growths coming up. The electric shocks up the leg were on & off all day long.

As I dressed after the medicationings.
Depression arrived. No logical reason.
Nothing had changed, but this did not stop
the , and
he stayed with me until around 17:00hrs.
Then and the ‘Sod it all, I’m not bothered.’
happiness mode kicked in. This situation has been
reversed so many times without cause
or reason. Up, down, up, down.
I must add this to the list in the morning.

I got the clock calendar undated.
And a mug of Glenettie.

Then, I lost myself and did nothing besides the word list for the ode and, eventually, the ode itself.

I did make a mug of 99 Co-op tea later.
Taking these photos.
When Sam did her 2nd call, I showed her the pictures from the camera. What is it he’s burning every Thursday?

I’m going to get some food cooking.

Back in the morning, I suppose.
TTFN.

This feast tasted so lovely, and I tucked into it.
Part-way through &
returned. Why? When I happily ate while watching
my favourite ‘Heartbeat’ on the box, with a
contented glow, seconds before?
I just stopped eating and threw it away.

Carer Chris called. Medications issues, he got the diabetic socks off for me. Christopher attached the nocturnal catheter bag for me. 

At least sleep came early. A broken, ever-jumping, awake session. In the end, I got up at 03:35hrs.
With the irritating desire to get the rhyme words upadted.
But resisted it. For a while!

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Cheers!
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Inchy Wednesday 12th February 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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I seem to have acquired more blameworthiness,
Does this come from my apparent guiltworthiness?
Or possibly, from my innocence & guiltlessness?
May it be due to my banal gullibleness?
It could be from my gutlessness or gutsiness,
My seizure episodes that bring gormlessness?
My life lived with no moments of being gregarious?
Or my periods of excessive garrulousness?
A lifetime of receiving sideways glances?
Undoubtedly, my depression and gloominess?
Or my lack of confidence, which is ginormous?
My infected brain has a certain grotesqueness,
My ageing body shows signs of ghostliness,
Mind & body decaying, it’s getting grievous,
As I mentioned earlier, always the guiltiness,
My search for painlessness was gainlessness,
Surviving life’s been a stab in the dark, a guess!
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Not the best of days.

At least I got some good sleep. It was broken, of course, but I reckon I still enjoyed a whopping seven hours. Nice!
The nocturnal pouch clour was another 4 on the NHS scale. With the Health Checks doing so well, I was well-pleased, to say the least.

A morning of mini-seizures. I’m not surprised; I was notified of a change in living circumstances late in the day. My own fault; only me or Doreen Dementia is to blame.

The seizures didn’t help. I struggled with the odeing and spent far too much time (Over four hours) trying to flow right. I’m not all that sure I improved it.

No confidence today. Plenty of the ankles sending electric shocks up the ankle, and the seizures, albeit they were short ones, I think, handicapped my brainpower.

A morning shot of the kitchenette view.

Adjusted the calendar clock.

And the biggest, well, most prolonged Seizure ever visited me.
I cannot recall much; the blanks were long.

In the late afternoon, I got the letter hand-delivered informing me about the upcoming changes.

Oh, I’ve not put the delivery photos on yet. So, I will.
Some of my favourite eats were delivered.
But I was not in the mood to feel cheerful
about anything.

The Natoora tomatoes were a bit soft, but I used them in the meal later. They were tasty!
Chessy-topped cobs.
I’ll have two of them tonight.
The fridge was looking fuller now.

Now it’s Nosh Time.
Battered onion rings were done in the oven.
The mini Spanish tomatoes were thrown away; they tasted terribly bitter. All else was eaten.
In my depression, I forgot to score the taste.
And cannot remember what I gave it.

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Cheerio Each!
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Inchy: Tuesday 11th February 2025

/ Inchie / 3 Comments

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A PROBLEM-SOLVING ODE
I have difficulty nowadays with problem-solving,
They keep coming, constantly revolving,
Solutions, Dementia is abnegating,
With her, I find myself argufying,
Neither side prepared for amnestying,
She seems against consciousness-expanding,
Memory-Mangling-Malcolm is not attenuating,
I spend far too much time error-correcting,
Instead of problem ameliorating,
Anne Gyna refuse pain subjugating,
My brain is beyond any aestheticising,
And I cannot take any more criticising,
Nit-picking, mockery or Starmer’s lying,
Crooked politicians, I find aggravating,
To hopes, I am no longer clutching,
I find life fatiguing and debilitating,
For Starmer, the hatred I’m harbouring,
His lack of compassion is inturbidating,
The Labour Party he is torpefying…
With his lying, fiddling & cheating,
His hatred of pensioners is unrelenting
He financially crippled anyone farming,
Thus, I find myself Starmer vernacularising!
Pensioners he has robbed & now he’s killing,
How he’s escaped prosecution is concerning,
He knows the crimes of others? It’s unnerving,
Is this why the opposition isn’t even chiding?
If they did, may they be in for good hiding…
Does he know of others’ financial juggling?
How to stop him? Revolution energising,?
To get my hopes pulsating, piquing…
To read of his painful, slow dying,
I’d celebrate by doing much imbibing!
It’s past time that he should be resigning,
Each day the git stays, the more I’m spitting!
I’ve few teeth left, but they are gritting…
He should leave, take up birdwatching,
Best suited would-be Emus; Australian,
With his record, he needs chloroforming,
With his cabinet, there’s been little conferring,
Apart from his drinks cabinet, port drinking,
He needs help, maybe some counselling,
By the Grim Reaper would be a good thing!
Assassination, I’m not considering…
Although assassination has a comforting ring…
His decisions may soon start boomeranging,
If the end comes, & he goes… that’ll be bracing,
Starmer will need swiftly replacing,
Mayhap by a druid or a droid, it’s complicating,
Or a human being, with his nature contrasting…
One who isn’t always fiddling or lying?
But to find  an honest MP may be disillusioning,
One fit enough to do Prime Ministering…
Especially one that is morality-emitting,
One who is history-free of lying & fornicating…
An honest MP? It’s just an impossibility!
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04:40hrs: I stirred back into ersatz life. I waited for Twitching Neck Nigel to ease off. Nigel was accompanied by a few of Eric’s electric ankle shocks, which were shooting up my right leg. I think that Lymphorrhea Leslie is beginning to swell enough to burst again. But come the late afternoon, Anne Gyna became the worst ailment, even than the seizures, pure pain, and I was gasping with it as I walked back from Sherwood after shopping in the rain, but I mustn’t complain, and going to the dentist and cake shop. Not for me! 

I used the small picker-upperer to get some cream on the ankle. Then, I detached the nocturnal pouch from the day Catheter bag. I realised I had time to go before getting dressed to go to the dentist, and I sorted the waste bags out as the first job. 
I decided to have just one mug of Co-op 99 tea and cut the water drinking out. I hope the catheter bag does not overfill while I’m in Sherwood. Before concentrating on what I need to do and take with me, I have a bus pass, keys, cash, card, and Bisoporol Fumerate in case Anne Gyna kicks off. Would you believe that I forgot to put some in my pocket? What a twit!
I took a couple of shots from the kitchenette window of view on offer to the right and left.
These didn’t come out too badly. The few snaps I took while out in the rain, legging it back up Winchester Street Hill, were terrible efforts.

I got the things needed in the walker and my pockets. (Well, as I said, I did forget to take the Beta-Blockers!

I put my feet in a bowl with an antiseptic disinfectant and soaked them while brushing my teeth and then shaving. I had so many cuts shaving this morning that counting them was hard. Haha! 7+ is my guesstimate! I spent much time stopping the little bleeders’ flow, but the Brut aftershave eventually won.

I got some more Germolene cream on Lymphorrhea, Leslie. Then dropped the tube… hitting myself on the head on the sink. I precisely targeted yesterday’s injury as I bent down to retrieve it! Looking at this selfie, I seemed to have acquired more bruises than I thought. Of course, they could have been from last night’s Whoopsiedangeplop? 

The innards rumbled and grumbled as I left the wet room, and I got down on the WC post-haste! Had I not been naked and I’d had to remove a dressing gown and nightshirt, I’m sure I would never have got down in time! This would have been another major embarrassing incident to clean up!

I got the medicationings done in a short time. My concentration was elsewhere, you see. I wanted to get at least a little done on the blog. I adjusted the old-fashioned clock calendar. I made another brew of 99 tea. Somehow, I failed to drink the first one earlier on.

Arrived on the first call. I had just gone into a Seizure Mode. Events are a little vague. I feel she helped me with the bus timetable. I can’t understand why I have this Arithmaphobia about numbers, time, etc. Dementia Doreen, I assume, getting worse and spreading her control.

I pressed on with the blog and got Mondays posted. Not a good one, but at least I got it out.
Returned to do the Domestic. I was fully with it this time. She helped me get the diabetic socks on, explained the buses, and checked on my appointment with the dentist. She also cleaned for me. Bless her.

DENTIST SHERWOOD VISIT: I still can’t realise I left the Beta-blockers behind. But I think I’d got everything else I needed. I intended to walk down the hill and get the bus back up. But it turned out the opposite. As I was going out, Carer Sam arrived, and she walked me to the Winwood Court lobby. As I approached the bus stop and walked past it, I noticed a bus was due in two minutes. So, I caught it. Made a mess of getting myself sat down as Cartilage Chloe gave way on me. Two passengers helped me get off the bus four stops later in Sherwood. There are some kind folks. I appreciated that cause I was having a seizure at the same time that I got off the bus. My thanks go to them! 

As I crossed the road to visit the Heron Store for the first time, the rain started splattering down. I remembered the pork knuckle, Pork Pie with egg, and potato waffles they used to sell in the Bulwell store, and my taste buds were already tingling as I went in and made my way to the fresh food fridges.
They had none of my favourite foods on the shelves they used to stock long ago. Sob!
However, looking at the receipt when I got home, I’d spent £16 with them. Cellotape, treats for the Carers and nurses, Easter eggs, and some Schweppes Tonic Water with watermelon. I did not realise what I was spending at the time due to a three-minute seizure at the checkout. I felt it coming, coped with it, then realised I was not with it.

Up the hill to the Dentist. A complete stranger saw me struggling to get the walker shopping bag up the 4 steps outside the front door of the surgery. Bless her. ♥
I’d never have made it without her tremendous help.
I got into the reception, only to find that I had got the wrong time for the appointment! I was 1½hrs early! The lady looked at me with a sideways glance. I responded by saying not to worry, that I had my crossword book and pen with me, and I apologised for getting the timing wrong.
I moved into the waiting area. And started on the crossword book. Amazingly, I got a few answers, too! 
The receptionist told me they had rearranged the dentists, and I could go to the surgery in a minute to be seen by another dentist. A minute later, she indicated that I could go in now. 
The Dentist had an investigation into the state of my teeth. Summing up, he said you will need significant surgery; are your teeth too painful. I waffled on about the pain spray I used almost daily, and he said the same as the other dentist said on the last four visits; We’ll see how you go; they should be alright until then, don’t you think? OK, I said.
Went to pay the receptionist. £30. Who helped me & my shopping down the 4 steps at the front door.

The rain was heavier now, but that did not deter me from going to the cake shop to buy some cream cake treats for the staff. 
Unbelievably, as the lady asked which cakes I wanted, I delved into another seizure. Asked her to pick them for me. Paid with my bank card, and as I went out, I read the receipt,  £8.90. 
I’ve spent a bit today.

I decided to take a different route back up to the flats. Instead of going down Mansfield Road and up Winchester Street Hill back to the apartments, I went down Hallem Road and around Winchester Hill. En route, the rain had disturbed all the mud from the many trees being cut down. They were pushing their roots up and cracking the pavement tarmac.
I felt sorry for this one on the left. I can see beauty in trees, and I had a little natter to this one as I passed it.
Don’t laugh! Hehe!
As I got onto Winchester Hill and turned left, up towards the flats, I took this snap on the right.
And the heavens opened up! The rain flooded down, and I tried to protect the things in the bag from getting soaked. But, worse…
Suddenly, it got the worst she’d been, pain-wise, for years. But I was not surprised in the least. The struggle up the hill had annoyed her. I was stopping to get even wetter every few minutes and let the stabbing pains from ease off.
Half an hour later, I’d reached the level of the flats. Anne Gyna eased off for a few minutes when I hobbled along on the straight, even, flat Chestnut Walk.
I felt so much better when I got into the Winwood Court complex. I dropped the cakes off, and they gave me the list of my banking details; bless them both.

I felt weary but contented at having made the little trip without any real . And feeling good. I got up to the apartment and dried myself off. Emptied the catheter pouch, got the kettle on, and put the purchases away.
Ah, I forgot I’d bought some beer-battered chips & onion rings. I might have them for tonight’s meal. If I ever get this blog started, that is. I opened the watermelon soda bottle and got on with updating this blog.

Carer Chris arrived. His new daughter, whose name he gave me, is in fine shape. I forgot her name, and I asked him twice.

It’s late now, so I’ll get summat made to eat. Carer Chris will be calling again soon.

Bad News. My own fault.

I’ll report it tomorrow.

If I can.

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TTFNski!
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Inchy: Monday 10th February 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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Forgive the title, from this sonneteer,
I know world peace will never appear,
He writes uneducatedly and titular,
As Odeist go, he’s a bit of a twattler…
Oligarchs rule with their financial Mafia,
No doubt backhanding scum like Starmer,
Herr Starmer: the threats disregarder!
Send a gunship to keep things calmer?
That Victorian option is with us no longer…
We threaten to send a negotiator,
Who asks Israel not to get nastier,
Giving Hamas the medicines we volunteer,
HMG now monitoring UFOs from planet Kepler,
Keeping a watchful eye on Russia and China,
War with either would be a right humdinger!
Definitely resulting in Earth’s departure…
We’d use far too many armamentaria,
Earth will explode, pollute the atmosphere…
Of planets unknown & there’ll be no more beer!
No wonder I’m feeling so confused & queer…
We may all be dead, but we will gain ataraxia,
Queue at St Peter’s Gate will take millennia
St Peter dead human’s last arbiter?
I’ll get to the back of the queue, & chanticleer!
In hopes of meeting murderer Starmer,
I’ll ask why he turned pensioner killer…
But he’ll likely not bother to answer…
I’ll have nowt to tempt him with no backhander,
Ah… could I offer him a free coiffure?
No, it’d be best to bribe St Peter…
To send Keir back to the moon, alone forever!
I like a good ending; it gives me pleasure!
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– – ANOTHER GOOD START! – –
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Sorry, there’s not much in today’s blog, folks. 
I’ve been trying to sort out tomorrow’s routine and timing for a visit to the dentist. Bus timing and trying to be out long in case the catheter needs emptying, and still make time somehow for me to visit the Heron Store. Get some cheesy cons from Bird’s Bakery. The camera packaging and posting of the clock have been delayed, Carer Promise told me later tonight. And I’m a smidge nervous in the traffic of the return of ‘Erics Electric Leg shocks’ in place of the freezing sensation. The worst fears cause that is what they are. A cartilage giving way again might have me over, and  Episodic Ataxia seizures & shakes might do the same while I’m out and about or in a shop, on the bus or at the dentist’s.
I can’t believe how wearisome I am.
The District Nurse arrived to replace the catheter contraption. I’d not seen this nurse before. From when she got me on the bed to the job being finished, it took ten minutes! Great! 

I’ll have to rush this; I’m so far behind. 1900hrs. Comments and WP reader to do yet. No fodder all day either, but I plan to make some baked cheesy potatoes with any luck and not fall asleep or just forget to eat. 

Nocturnal pouch.

Spuds readied for baking; they are still there 11 hours later.

Cup of tea, at last, a few minutes ago.

Early morning view.

The only afternoon shot.

Taken a few minutes ago.

Just took this one.
Yes, I’ve missed the first Heartbeat Program,
I just caught the second one; this may be fun, although that’s not the word. Confused and tired, I will read the WP extras, Comments, and WP Reader while I have the TV on. It seems that a few cock-ups are in the offing.

I’ll get the meal sorted when I’ve finished on WPing.
Hopefully, I will find time to sort the update in the morning.
TTFN

Update: Not a lot…
I made a right mess of the meal photo.
It tasted better than it looked!

Keep Safe!

Inchy: Sunday 9th February 2025

/ Inchie / 13 Comments

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04:55hrs: After an often-broken sleep caused by dear  , I still got about 5 hours of sleep in bits, so that wasn’t too bad; I woke most unenthusiastically. I pondered over things as I sat there on the £300, second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, Harold Haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable from, unfit-for-use, not working, recliner, not fully aware of things, trying to figure out why I felt like this. I put it down to my having woken up with an activating seizure. My confusion started to clear after a few minutes. But I still felt a little off-kilter, mentally. Voids in my memory, despite believing I had been dreaming, there were no indications of what of. Annoying that, innit?
I eventually, gingerly rose from the £300 second-hand, most uncomfortable, decrepit, Haemorrhoid Harold-testing, creaking, sleep-deterring, nauseatingly beige-coloured, not-working recliner and caught my balance. I took off the Nocturnal Catheter pouch to free myself to start the short mini-exercises… Well, that was the plan.

Within seconds of starting the stretching, I was on the floor, with a decent bruise on the forehead gained on my way down to the carpet. I still have no idea where or what I hit my head against. It all seemed to occur so quickly.
Getting back up was as easy as it could have been, with me landing next to the recliner. Obviously, it was painful clawing my massive, flabby body back up into the recliner. Sensing that this was much more painful than usual, I considered pressing the Help Line Alarm. As my head cleared again, there was no blood at all coming from the wound, just hardly seeable scratch and bruise. I went into my Sherlockian Mode and realised why it hurt me so much, and I found the cause of the original tumble! Yes!

Had given way. I feel sure! After a few moments. The head bump was painless and only was hurting… until a minute later, when Took over as the ‘Head Ailment’. Confusion Konrad remained. And I’m not sure all this is in order of happening now.
I forgot all about doing the balance routine after that.

I’m not sure why, but I thought a mug of tea would be a good idea or of any benefit. But I made one and adjusted the old-fashioned clock-calendar.
I nipped to photograph the morning view from the kitchenette window. Misty and cold out there again. This snap came out all right. But I thought when taking it I saw a planet, albeit a tiny one, on the top left. No signs of it?

Carer Selina arrived. She noticed the bruise on my head. I made her laugh, telling her how it happened. Haha!

Back to my blogging. In ten minutes, I had five short visits . Then, nothing for an hour or so.
And back she came, I had to give up, for fear of making so many mistakes that I didn’t realise then and losing hours of precious time to correct them. Humph!

I got pm Word to write the day’s Ode. 

Came back on again.
I had to give up again. I will sit down and wait it out, hoping it will not be another long one. They seem to tire me out.

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Shasha is one of Tim Price’s
Colony of Cats. Bootiful!
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Made a meal and settled the football game.
There were two FA Cup matches to watch, and I did not move out of the recliner for hours and hours.
I took this in a break between games.
The first one was Plymouth Argyle beating Liverpool!

Made the nosh and settled down to see the second match.
Aston Villa v Tottenham Hotspurs.

Then I realised that Quatermass & The Pit film was showing on the same channel after the footy. 
1967 FILM NOIR 
They don’t make them like this anymore!.
From 1953 to 1967, They made three Quatermass treats.
The first one was made for a TV series. But, 40% of the original tapes have since been lost by the BBC. There are DVDs, but they have a lot of missing action. But I loved them them all.
The TV one was poorly scripted, badly acted, and as for ‘Rocket Ship’ landing in the house’s bedroom, without destroying it… well, it was part of the fun and mystery. This was given the title, The Quatermass Experiment. The film concerns three astronauts launched into space aboard a single-stage-to-orbit rocket designed by Professor Quatermass. A TV series. 
Then (1953) QUATERMASS II film. Strange metallic meteorites rain down over Winnerden Flats, an eerie new town near a strongly guarded chemical plant. Professor Quatermass discovers that contact with the meteorites causes an unusual infection. He is also astonished that the chemical plant is modelled after his design for a moonbase, where life can thrive in an artificial atmosphere. Investigations uncover a conspiracy that extends from the Government level to the zombie-like workers who will stop at nothing to protect the plant. Quatermass deduces that aliens from one of the moons of Saturn travel to Earth in the meteorites, possess human minds, and share knowledge through a collective consciousness. I loved it! Especially with Sid James getting killed in the pub on Winnerton Flats.
Ah, Memories!

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The last photo was taken as I looked around to ensure I had not left anything on that I shouldn’t have. All looks good!

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I’m off to bed now!
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I got about four hours’ worth of Kip! Great!