Inchcocks 6th Lockdown Escape – To the Pharmacy

Offlymuch I went, I did,
To fetch my Fenbid-40 & MacroBid,
And a tube of Fenbid,
Although it cost me my health and a few quid!

The road was blocked by traffic parked on the pavement,
But I didn’t relent,
A passing car missed me,
To the floor, I nearly went!
Down Winchester Street,
It was a brave feat,
The brakes don’t work…
I carried on, my mission to complete!
More trouble on Hood Street,
Blocked pavement again,
But I an not to be beat!
Went on the road again, such a pain!
Got on Mansfield Road near Rhodes,
But where were the folks?
No muggers, bikers or Schaghticokes,
I think I’ll buy some Artichokes!
I stopped to look down Hadyn Road for a while,
Little traffic, few people that made me smile,
I moved on after a while,
Realised I’d forgot to take my mobile!
Started up the hills,
To fetch my pills,
To cure my ills,
Up ahead, the cottages and vills!
Aha, a Pavement Cyclist was seen!
He scowled at me, he didn’t seem too keen,
On my putting him in my camera screen,
His face looked a little adamantean!
Over down the hill to Carrington,
A place of muggings, violent action,
Blimey, my poetry is terribly bad…
What’s your reaction?
Got near the Chemist shop, a little late,
The retailer shops looking in a bad state,
I wonder, what is their fate,
Bankruptcy, for you mate!
I entered the Chemist shop straight away,
No welcoming smile, did they display,
I wished I was far away,
I tried to look happy, appear to be gay,
My emotions were in disarray,
Got the tablets, and I was away!
I called at Lidle, to get some food, spend my brass,
Noticed, the yobboes had smashed the window glass,
Coronavirus, made the yobboes mad and crass?
Did someone think the glass, a canvas?
Was it done by some drunken dumbass?
Done by a gang of anti-maskers, out to kickass?
Good job the window was made of plexiglass!

I must apologise for the patheticness of this rhyme,

But writing it, I was unwell at the time,

Anne Gyna, stopped me feeling sublime,

My future as a poet is not worth a dime,

But I’ll try to get it better next time!

Inchcockum: Monday 20th July 2020 – Failure-filled, Frustrating and Phenomenally Fear-Fermenting day!

Canadian TFZer Model

Monday 20th July 2020

Esperanto: Lundon la 21an de Julio 2020

03:50hrs:  Woke up, wee-wee was required. I found the three nail-clippers I opened last night, in various places on my body? The little finger on my left hand had been bleeding but had now congealed near the nail. Erm?

By the time I’d got out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, rickety recliner and got my balance, the Porcelain Throne was also needed. With painful, partially crippling uncut toenails stinging, I hobbled to the wet room, with all alacrity.

Cor-Blimus!, that a quickie it was! Messy, pongy, and painful too! Humph! Washed and cleaned up, and to the computer, to look up the day’s doings on the calendar, because the vagueness of mind and inability to concentrate had caused a blank-spell. I’ve got the Morrison’s order 08:30>09:30hrs, the Warfarin blood test-nurse (anytime between 09:00>16:00hrs). The recyclable bags to take down that might need two trips. I must get help calling the Doctors and foot clinic, hoping to get an appointment.

Off to get the Health Checks and medications taken. By the time I’d limped to the hallway, my indistinctive, vagueness, ambivalent, fuzziness of mind, decided I’d get the stand-up ablutions done first? So I did!

And a right mess I made of them! The legs and feet were looking okay, though. If only the pain would go away (Hehehe!), I realised later that I had not cleaned my teeth! The shaving did not produce a single cut or nick! I knocked the waste bin over!

Stubbed my toe against the sink support! (Luckily, it was the right foot, and Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters was playing up, so the pain was minimal! No doubt when the nerve-ends come back online, they’ll let the brain know. That’ll be fun!). Then, I sprayed myself with air freshener, and not the deodorant! All in all, I made a right mess of it, but somehow, I just didn’t seem concerned at that time? (Fuzzy-Mind Fred?)

I got dressed and off to the kitchenette to make a brew, take the medications, and do the Health Checks. The view from the thick-framed, light, and view-blocking new windows was terrific.

As I was taking this photograph of the scene, my vagueness seemed to dissipate a tad. But this regaining a little control of the grey-cells brought with it all the worries, concerns, fears, and failures to mind! The Thought-Storms attacked.

As I turned away from the window, I knocked the electric can-opener off of the ledge. It fell, via the server tray, and wall, right onto my poor foot and big toe! However, there was a bit of genuine good-luck involved here! The flex only allowed it as far as to hit the toe once, it had reached the limit the flex allowed and was pulled away! Thus, the pain was far less than had the machine not been plugged in! Well, well, Double-Smug-Mode almost adopted! But I realised it would not be long until another Whoopsie or Accifauxpas would befall me. My EQ told me I was due for a harassing day! I think I might have a black-toenail developing now? Ah-well, it could have been far worse!

I got the Jenny-supplied little picker-upperer and retrieved the machine from where it hung near the floor. Then I had a search and found the blade section that had gone in a different direction as it flew off of the main body. Argh! The opener no longer works! Granglesbognessbugger! 

At last, I got around to taking the medications, and then did the Health Checks, starting with the BP, sphygmomanometerisationing. The SYS was still a bit high. The stick-thermometer was used, it showed as just ‘Low’.

Then, with the morning’s vagueness, instead of updating the Sunday blog, I started this one off, before I forgot the mayhem that had taken place last night.

Then, I moved on to updating the Sunday post. Got it finished and posted off the Email links, and did the Facebooking. The intercom rang out, it was the Morrison delivery arriving. I got the bags from the doorway into the kitchen. And what a lot of sorting-out I had to do, too!

I started with the fresh foods, and they all looked good and clean to me! The only minor problem with these was substituted milk. They’d sent a bottle twice as large as the one I wanted. So some throwing away to come, methinks. 

The cupboard stuff was sorted and stored away. The only bleach available was a thin 2litre one, but it” have to do. And the washing up liquids I’d ordered arrived, also an apple and orange, scented one? Mmm?

Getting all the fresh stuff in the fridge was a challenge, Hahaha!

Cupboarded the other stuff, and I had to put a few items in the junk room. Including four baked bean cans that I didn’t realise I’d ordered. I recall thinking of getting them at a special offer price, I didn’t reckon that I had.

But, that’s me all over. Confused easily, and doolally prone!

I was beginning to get myself worked up a bit. (Little did I know then, just how uptight, irritable and meg-frustrated I was going to get today!) And rather busy, as well! But the view outside helped calm me down a bit, temporarily.

They had sent the two plain flour bags, and I’d ordered an extra carton of red grapes as well, they were on offer price if I bought two, so I did. As a thank you for Jenny for her care and help. I called Jenny and told her I was on my way down with the flour. We had a little natter at the same time, I appreciate that. Getting down, was a problem with there only being one lift available for the residents, and the rule (Rightly so!) that only one goes in an elevator at a time. The not allowed cage kept coming to me at first, so I had to nip in and sent the lift to a lower floor, and hope that the resident’s lift had no one in it when it came. Cunning, I am! Haha! I got to Jenny’s and Franks flat, and I left the bag near the door. The lady had left £2 in payment for the flour in an envelope on her door for me. Bless her!

I got the black bags for the chute, and the big-bag of recyclables to go down to the caretaker’s area bin. I forgot to take the camera with me, though. It was going down in the elevator, that I realised that the rear-end furunculosis, wasn’t giving me any bother. That was good!

I went out to the recycle bin, but couldn’t see any caretaker’s to help me at the time, so I had to leave the bag near the skip.

Coming back in, and I saw Riechsfuhreress and Catwalk Model Warden Deana. I took the chance to have a word (More a pathetic moan and plea for help, really, Haha!) with her, about my problem with the toenails. She kindly said she would call the Sherwood podiatrist te when I might get in to see her, then she’ll call the private costly foot-lady who operates one day a week from Winwood Court, to see if she can do me. And would ring me back with what she finds out for me. Fair enough, I couldn’t ask for more! Well, I could, but that would be naughty! Har-har!

Hello, I thought, things looking up? I should have known better!

I got back up to the flat and started to get fresh pod peas podded. They were far better quality than those I bought two weeks ago, Looking forward to these tonight.

In the middle of doing them, the delightful Vampire Blood Nurse, Hristina arrived. She was in a hurry again, bless her. But did natter to me while the gal took my blood. I mentioned the foot lady and what she charges for nail cutting, and the nurse said “I’m in the wrong business, I ought to change to chiropody!” with a broad, beautiful smile on her pulchritudinous face. ♥

I was about to finish off the peas, add some demerara sugar to them in the pan, and get some potatoes in another saucepan when Sister Jane rang me. So lovely to hear her voice. But the news was not all good. She and Pete had had more bother from their neighbour! I listened for a while, wishing I could help. Then the light on the landline phone we were on, flashed. I thought it might be Warden and desktop dancer Deana with news of the foot clinic. Jane rang off, and the light stopped blinking! Humph!

At long last, I got onto doing this blog updating. What a messy, niggly, frustrating busy day! 

I went onto the WordPress Reader.

The door-chimes rang out with the Dusty Springfield tune, “I only want to be with you”. I hobble to the door, to find the postman delivering the Kodak camera! I thought today couldn’t get any worse, I was so wrong!

I managed to get the battery in the camera, but it is so late, I was reluctant to get all involved in trying to try and learn about the Kodak at this moment. But, boys will be boys!

The electric plug was an American a round two-pin one, for the charger. I got myself in a right pickle, trying to find out if and how to set things up! I gave up in the end. I’m going to have to go begging for help on this one. Now I really was getting irritable, peed-off, and so tired. Long past my head-down time and I haven’t even got the meal started!

The moment I again thought, ‘Can it get any worse’, the landline rang! It was Deana with bad news on the Podiatrist front problem.

As I understood Deana:

  • The private chiropodist will not do anything with my feet or toes, until I have seen the doctor, and got the all-clear with my other ailments, for her to go ahead! Blanglebotherations!
  • My usual podiatrist at the Elmswood Medical Centre in Sherwood has a waiting list so long, she could not get me an appointment, until October 28th! Argh!
  • However, if I could get to the St Anns clinic, they could get me in, for next Monday, on the 27th of July! But, the only time available is for 09:10hrs! Claptickleisations!
  • I asked Deana to please arrange for that appointment for me. 
  • Of course, I will not be able to use my bus pass, and the buses don’t call before 0930 at the flats, anyway! So, it will be a taxi for me then.
  • That is if Deana can get me the appointment!
  • She said she will ring back later and let know, Bless her!

And I will have to bother Jenny to ring for a cab for me! That is if I can get the appointment!

Why does nothing ever seem to go right, or easy for me? Mind you, I ought to be used to really! Clapstickleisations!

I’ll try to get some din-dins made up then. Or, top missen! No, better not, I’ll only get it wrong and be in trouble! Spit!

A struggle and stress-worthy job getting the meal ready while feeling so tired, irritable and worn-out. The dropsies were active. But I pressed on and got it served up.

It turned out to be a delightful indulgence. The garden peas were lovely, the acetous beetroot and carrots were tasty, the boiled in soy flavoured water potatoes, then dotted with Hoisin sauce, really were most excellent. The ready-cooked beef was as good as I’ve ever tasted. A deserved flavour rating of 8.5/10 for this effort! Weary as I felt, I still savoured each forkful!

Got the pots washed, took the evening medications and ointments, gels and lotions applied to those areas of my fine, magnificent, sculpted, toned, fit, young muscular body, in need of treatment. (Cough!)

I got down in the £300, c1968, second-hand, pukingly-beige-coloured, none working, ramshackle, uncomfortable in the extreme, not-working, rusty, rickety, near-lethal, recliner, and was off onto the land of Nod, within minutes! Fantastic! Sweet Morpheus!

I was woken by the sound of the door Chimes, both being pressed.

Unbelievably, it was Josie waking me up again! I could not be annoyed though, the gal had been out shopping, and bought me some peaches and strawberries. Bless her! I had to explain that I am allergic to fresh strawberries, and do not like peaches. I felt bad telling her, and she looked a little downhearted. I apologised, she wanted to know what she could get me, in return for the Sunday meals. Again, I said, all I need is for you to enjoy the meals, that’s enough for me, Josie! She persisted in knowing what she can get for me, though. Apples I said, I like apples! I’m sure she feels the need to give me something back. I returned to the recliner, feeling a bit guilty.

But of course, by then, Sweet Morpheus was not interested in allowing me to get back to sleep, and the Thought-Storming started!  Grobbleknangles!

Ah-well! Fare-thee well, sanity!

Rainbow inspired photographicalised ode

1Mon04

5Fri05

On the computer, picking at my cold sore,
I drew the curtains, above is what I saw,
For beauty, one couldn’t ask for more,
I was gobsmacked, as I looked in awe!
Life wasn’t so complicated or obscure,
There was hope yet, I was sure,
I forgot all about my credit score!

5Fri007c

My zoochosis meant nothing, against this delight,
Magnificent colours and bending light,
Some pale, transparent, others being superbright,
I took in the gorgeousness, as well I might,
I forgot the hassle of Monday and yesternight.
I wanted to steal this inspiration, get the copyright!

5Fri12

How did the phenomenon occur, I lacked the insight,
It even beats the heavenly blue moonlight,
A plane flew by, lucky devils on that flight!
Not that I don’t love the days twilight,
What an incomparable, wonderful sight,
It’s even more desirable than toasted Marmite!

5Fri11

Rainbow, that’s an excellent euonym,
My self-control wandered, I felt grim,
Mind facts were substituted with skrim,
Dizzy Dennis was afoot, a thought-storm brewed!
For moments the brain froze, and logic stewed,
My head cleared, after a prayer and a hymn.

5Fri019

I no longer drink, or use tobacco,
Don’t play any instrument, no piano,
I do overeat and love a fresh tomato,
Eventually, semi logic I did re-bestow,
Thus ended this thought-storm fiasco!

5Fri03

No peace, no rest, from the unbalanced mind,
Sometimes from life’s hassle, I wish I could resign,
Oh, to find an existence that is gentle and kind,
Peacefulness, tranquillity, are so hard to find,
Even around here, with its lanes, tree-lined,
Why is life, so complicatedly designed?
Have I any right, to moan and whine?
The body and brain are both on the decline,
Red Dwarf’s on the box later, so never mind!

1Mon04a

Coronavirus Calypso

A spur of the moment, impulse, load of drivel, created, as Inchcock woke up. He asked me to pass on his apologies, as he was temporarily in Defcon 2 mode, mentally.

5Fri007c

Remember These? Of course, the hoarders will!

Coronavirus Calypso

Going into self-isolation,
As is most of the nation,
To get the toilet rolls in?
The chances? None to thin,
Coronavirus, payment for our sin?

Tellurians, you must not bump into,
Tatterdemalion or the well-to-do,
Urges to touch, you must subdue,
Cut your hair in a basin cut hair-do,
Having sex is still under review!
But pigeons can still bill and coo?

No food in the shops,
Bread, milk, you might find a few,
You’ll have to fight and argue,
Battle with the determined queue,
Then blood and insults will spew,
The language was very blue!

You might try home delivery for food,
To sustain you and your brood,
If you do try home delivery food!
To the delivery man, do not be rude,

Self-isolation; is wrong, some folk argue,
But I’ll not be involved over this, thank-you,
HMG responses seem so impromptu,
Certainly going to cost us revenue,

Self-isolation, so many folk rue,
A bit of good news is overdue,
Confusion over what we must do,
We mustn’t shake hands too!
Is mankind’s end really in view?

Stuck at home, what do we do?
Clean shelves and dust that statue,
Pen some extra veins to your tattoo,
No food in, so no chocolate to chew,
Can’t get out to buy, so no making stew,
Your plans and orientation, gone askew!

Sit, read a book, perhaps of Fu Manchu,
Back of the fridge, mouldy Danish blue?
You’re starving now, crumbs for tea, that’ll do!
Dig around the sofa, for crisp-crumbs residue!
The nurse’s visit cancelled too,
Mind froze, stagnated, what will ensue?

Where is the spirit of World War Two?
Is it the end, will you ever again hear a cuckoo?
Is it to be, that you’ll not see another cup of tea?
Farewell, to your beloved tasty Glengettie brew?
Your mind gets depressed, whatever can you do?
Finally, you get a plan made and worked through!

Escape! Find food, and hopefully, a toilet roll too!
Your plan to go shopping, sanctioned by the Tenant’s escape crew,
How to get out though, whatever can you do?
They don you with a wig, to hide your bald head from view,
You know you may not return, but offer your neighbours, a thank-you,
Creep out, staying in the shadows, your walking stick oiled too,
Arrive at the store, but what a sight greets you…

Header7

But it’s the future, your deja vu, hitherto!

Empty shelves, fighting, greed, at Sainsbury’s too!
Little fresh food, no toilet rolls, not even a tissue!
This is now a serious issue,
You give an Achoo – but ominously, nobody blesses you!

WDP 003a

Published in Support of the Outer Peruvian Pregnant Kangaroo Appreciation Society

Inchcock’s Wet Walk in Nottingham!

Inchcock’s Wet Walk in Nottingham!

Inchies wet wander to Nottingham City Centre,

The rain would not relenter!

He got soaked, cold, and this he does lamenter! (Oh, dear!)

5Fri10

I started with my viewing the floods on the park,

I went out to picture it and fell over a lump of bark,

The flood was big enough to float the Bismarck,

Time to catch my bus, the flats I did disembark!

5Fri12

I got roughed up getting off of my bus,

Cursed getting soaking wet, Oh, I’m a right wuss,

But I pressed on to the Poundland shop,

My first port of call stop,

In search of some pfeffernuss!

5Fri13.

For a Police car, that’s dodgy parking,

No blue lights were flashing?

No Ossifers were in sight,

Should I investigate, make sure all’s alright?

But I didn’t, there might have been a fight!

5Fri14.

Shopping all done, I came out of the Poundland shop,

T’was all dark, it reminded me of Betty Wainthrope,

Made my way to the Bargain Shop, for some codswallop!

5Fri15

It was still cold and rainy, though,

I found a nice thick big throw,

At £19.99, I bought it, so…

5Fri31

In guilt, I found myself basking,

At the price that they were asking,

My mind needed an MOT and debunking!

I paid and left… Sulking!

5Fri017

I hid under a bus stop,

And emptied the rain-filled trolley-top tray,

From my shoes, I tipped the water away,

Then to Trinity Square, I made my way.

5Fri018

T’was abandoned by the Nottinghamian folk,

Was it the cold and rain that kept them away?

No man nor woman in view, not even a beggar bloke!

If they had come, they’d have just got a good soak!

5Fri019

Same at the top end, the populace had gone astray,

Might keep the muggers away, I pray,

And the shoplifters, where were they?

What happened to the 45,500 students in Nottingham today?

5Fri20

Down to Parliament Street on my way,

No people in Frankie & Benny’s,

Spending their pennies,

The few folks around, don’t look too happy or gay!

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In Slab Square there were a few more Pavement Cyclists about,

Some, were delivering food, Mange Tout, or maybe fried trout?

A couple on Long Row were close enough to give me a clout,

But, I was too cold and soaked to give them a shout,

And, I’d got a runny snout!

5Fri21

To the bus stop, to go home again,

Arthur Itis giving me pain,

I think the rain had affected my brain,

For I was contented, why? I can’t explain?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

0001

Where hope would once prevail

This morose rubbish was penned by Inchcock when he was at his lowest.

Having just missed a second appointment at his Dentists!

It flowed from his now even-more depressed mind easily. Too easily.

But, the old fool still posted it. Bless the poor old twit!

GC33

Where hope would once prevail

Where hope would once prevail,

Now there’s not even a contrail,

I’m  not exactly hearty & hale,

My failings, oh, I so want to wail,

My hopes have begun to pale!

Overweight, I’ll never be a Chippendale,

I believe I was born to fail,

Will my fortunes improve, my good flail?

No, more chance of finding the Holy Grail!

My good luck, I store under a fingernail,

My Accifauxpas, ever-grow in scale,

As my body does, it looks like a whale!

Whoopsidangleplops arrive, like a gale,

Worries, fretting, now no sleep to avail,

Still, it’s given me time to write this sorry sad, tale!

If anyone want to buy it, it’s for sale!

Evenin’ all!

A Little Trip To Merry Nottingham – Photographically & Poetically told

4Thu19

I arrived on Parliament Street, greeted by the smiling populace,

A cheery smile on every face,

Oh, how I love the place,

Mind you, I had my can of Mace!

4Thu19a

I called in the Poundland shop,

Shoplifters were arguing, having a strop,

I didn’t want to eavesdrop,

So I didn’t stop!

4Thu19b

I notice pedestrians crossing the road against the red lights,

But all was eerily quiet, no fights,

I bloke chucked out of Burger King, what a sight!

Another chap was as high-as-a-kite!

Then two gals started a cat-fight,

I ran away, and well, I might!

4Thu19cClumber Street, I rested, the knees were stinging and tight,

Along came two men, one on crutches, the other on a bike,

I told the biker, it wasn’t right,

Driving so close to me on a bike,

He told me to take-a-hike!

4Thu19d.

Why do folks do this, I wonder why?

Two imitation policemen stood nearby,

They said and did nowt,

Cause they have no clout,

I moved on and gave a sigh!

4Thu19ELong Row, above the Yorkshire bank,

1833, bet these were built with pride and swank,

But such architecture goes unnoticed, to be frank,

By youngsters, with acne and a look that is blank,

To them, workmanship & beauty is not worth a Franc!

4Thu19fLong Row businesses, failing so so much now,

This shop used to be Burtons food store,

Where you could buy pork, bread or a cow,

I miss it more and more,

I can still smell the meat, somehow,

Though we couldn’t afford it, we were poor!

4Thu19gAh, another pavement cyclist, for short, PC, I’ll call them,

One hand on his handlebar, texting on his phone in his hand,

He even spat out some horrible phlegm!

Some say they should be banned,

But not by the Greens or Lib-Dem!

4Thu19HA gathering of Nottinghamians resting,

Unemployed, students, and shoplifters?

The bored, the drunks, and Brexit debaters?

Look at their faces, it’s interesting,

They all glare at me, as if they hate us!

4Thu19iCity Centre, Long Row, and, the Slab Square,

Architecture by Fothergill Watson, who was the absolute best!

The man was a genius, with skill and flair!

Better than all the rest,

And, I’m only being fair!

4Thu19JQueen Street, I nearly got hit by yet another PC,

Delivering food, perhaps pizza, burgers, or a fricassee?

Maybe once again, one will run into me?

But I carry my taser, just in case you see!

 

This rubbish was wrote during an evil spell of the dizzies and shakes,

By Inchcock, while he ate his supper, of cheesy cakes.

I fank you!

A Whoopsiedangleplop Wet-Walk in Nottingham

01a

Amidst a Thought-Storm, an idea came,

For a little ode, a bad one, oh the shame!

But Inchie had to put pen to paper and write it,

Cause he got wet and went arse-over-tit!

But he knows he is to blame,

Still scribbled it, all the same!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

0001