Inchy: Thursday 30th January 2025

31/01/2025 / Inchie / 10 Comments

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Now HMG oozes sycophantishlier,
Starmer, the hater of the farmer…
Robber of every pensioner,
Ever ready to take a backhander,
A well-proven by-omission expert liar,
Self-Wealth being his main desire,
What’s he doing in Labour?
He’d make a better dictator…
His compassion is in absentia,
Labour values, he does besplatter,
With Oligarch’s, he’s getting chummier,
He seems a qualified puppetmaster,
Like Goebbels, he’s good at propaganda,
As he leads the UK to disaster!
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Another Sleepless Night!
The Bug is Back. Influenza Norovirus. Sore throat, chesty cough with the odd painful sneeze here and there. Wheezing, aches & pains of the joints. Runny nose and eyes.

04:00hrs: Gave up trying to sleep and got up. Feeling so weary, achy and confused at the same time. I soon felt the pain from the weighty, overfull day pouch tugging at Little Inchy when I got out of bed. Last night, I felt even more confused and realised that the Diabetic socks had not been removed, and the Nocturnal Catheter Pouch had not been attached.
Not a good start to the day. (Little change here, then!)

Computer on, finished yesterday’s short blog and posted it.
Made a tentative start on this blog. Noticing that the stomach cramps were getting worse as the time passed. Humph!

An instant demand from the innards had me scuttling to the wet room to get to the water closet in time to avoid the assessed coming of an involuntary evacuation… I didn’t make it in time! What a frustrating affair! It took me ages to clean up. It was such a messy, smelly, sticky evacuation. Red-Face-Engaged!

Carer Richard arrived. I knew he’d been off work, but I thought it was just because of the flu, but he mentioned his accident at home. He fell backwards, hitting the back of his head on the washing machine door and knocking it off. Waking up hours later, covered in blood! Concussed. Poor lad, he appears to be as lucky as I am, which is not lucky, of course, well, not good luck.

I’m still doing better in the Health Check returns this week.

But sleep, or rather the lack of it, that’s another issue that defeats me. This afternoon, just like last week, I felt so drained that I attempted to use all my experience to try and get some!
I ate some battered fish balls to settle my stomach. Put the TV on, usually one guarantee of nodding off, and sat in the second-hand, c1968, eyesorely-horrendously grungy beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, microorganism-microbe producing, gungy, moth-eaten, beige-coloured, non-working, bacillus encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, c1968 recliner. With my feet up on the chair, the recliner does not work.
Four hours later, I was still wide awake and yet desperately needed sleep. I was pondering over whether I should move onto the hospital bed.

The door chime chimed out – It was Frank, Jenny’s husband. He bought a camera for me to use from Jenny. ♥ I was immediately off into a worried mode that it might go wrong while I had it. Thanked him for Jenny. We had a lovely little laugh about things we were suffering with. Frank has only just got over the Flu Novavirus himself. So kind of them. And Tim Price, my cyber-mate in New Mexico, has said he will send me a new Kodak camera to use. I’m being well cared for here. Bless them!

Carers Selina and Simon made the subsequent calls. I laid on the bed, lights out, and the curtain drawn. I got plenty of lethargy, languor, and listlessness but no sleep!

So, I started updating this blog.

Photographs taken today:
Puffer clouds.
Afternoon sunburst.
Sunset.
Sunset zoomed-in.
Not a good one, but the moon.
Evening all! Not used to the camera yet. (Excuse! Hehe!)

I made next week’s food order. J Sainsbury this time.
Tuesday 4th February 6>10a.m.

I went on WordPress Reader, did the ablutions and put my head down. The TV failed to get me to sleep.
Finally, I started to drift off a few times, but each time, I’d wake with a helluva jerk and jump, shooting to the right, creaking & cracking the neck.

I gave up at 04:10hrs and meandered into the kitchen to take photos. None of which were up to par. Tsk!

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TTFNski
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Inchy: Sat 25th /Sun 26th January 2025

27/01/2025 / Inchie / 6 Comments

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INCHY’s ODE
When an ankle-snapper, my questions got cupboarded,
Always complicated; the house was candlelighted,
We had gas: non-payment meant this was sequestered,
Things didn’t bother me then; life was uncomplicated,
Even when Mother ran away to avoid being arrested,
To head cook, washer and cleaner, I superseded,
Dad got me part-time jobs – as if they were needed!
On weekday mornings, I made sure Dad was breakfasted,
Then rush to school to be bullied & headbutted,
From school to do the paper round hurried,
Back home to get Dad’s meal, the fire prepared,
Happy days… to me, this felt normalised,
Of course, not knowing when I get octogenarianised,
That I’d physically & mentally get disableised,
Or be flat-bound, high in a High Rise,
Or the Pensioner’s fuel allowance would be shanghaied!
Or the end of the world would be visualised,
Nor would I consider getting myself schnockered.
Or stuffed with Morphine & Beta-Blockered,
The line above would not have been included,
If Starmer & Dementia hadn’t obtruded!
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Sunday morning: I stirred, for the first morning for five days on the trot… without the grating cough greeting me. Boy, this was a good moment. Finally, the ‘bug’ was weakening and letting me know this. No adoption of any . Too cautious for that.

I’d just had a night’s sleep of over six hours duration, and it was grand! I removed the nocturnal night pouch and sat there pondering and getting myself uptight at the many things I could not rectify. The Banking details, the medication shortages, etc.

When joined in, I heard, or thought I heard an alarm of some sort. I went on the hunt to try and find what it was that had sounded. The Alert Alarm? No!
The Intercom? No! The Water Tap Leak alarm? No! A Text Message? No! The electricity panel showed no lights. Ah, was it the door chime? Nope! This made me think it may have been the Foyer Intercom, so I looked out the door, and nothing was there. Had I ing that I’d forgotten about?
It’s time to turn on the computer and take a look. There was nothing on it for today. I did note that I’d put the Iceland order on the wrong day for next week. I corrected it (I hope) after going to Iceland to confirm the difference first.

Carer Selina came in without ringing the buzzer, fritted me as she stood behind me, and greeted me with a cheery face. Hahaha!
She confirmed the colour grading on the NHS chart as a 7, but I put it down as a five in the Excel graphic for some reason. Then she got a pair of diabetic socks fitted, and I asked her if she’d seen my laundry anywhere. It had been three days. She skipped down to take a look and returned with the laundry bag. Bless her. She issued the medications and had to rush off.
When I put the things away, I found smears of fluff growing from the laundry room floor over the dressing. It’s not unusual. All the socks were there this time, and there were no extras, unlike when I had gained a bra and a pair of ladies’ knickers.

I got onto WordPress to start on this blog. And what a disaster the first two paragraphs were! I could barely understand what it was I’d been trying to say! Ultimately, I gave up and deleted it, starting from scratch.

Carer Simon arrived for the midday slot. I took the opportunity to mention the laundry. The problem was finding out where my bank passwords were. I pointed out that I was not complaining; I just wanted to know they were in hand. I also explained the medication shortages in detail. Simon said he’d try to find out for me on Monday and look into the medications’ situation to try and get me some clarity. Thank you.

Back to WordPressing. I replied to the comments of my hoard of followers. All three are friendly people. Then I went on the Blog Reader viewing.

Carer Richard made the last call. I was having my very first long seizure of the day at the time.
Nothing to report from a blank, vague memory.

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Somethings coming… I know not what…
The Grim Reaper with his chariot?
What will be lost, found, mistaken or misbegot?
May I choke on medications or chocolate?
My Glaucoma op arrived? That’d be a shock,
Mayhap never another seizure or mental block?
A Bhagat just may be begat or wot?
Politicians may do things without a subplot?
No, that’s asking too much, what?
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TTFNski!
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Inchy: Thursday 23rd January 2025

24/01/2025 / Inchie / 6 Comments

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We waited so long for a Labour HMG saviour,
What do we end up with? Dishonest Starmer,
He amassed himself £102,000, by gift & freebie,
Gets caught out as a cheat & and a by omission liar,
Then, the git decided to rob every pensioner,
Moves on to tax increases for every farmer,
Before was Blair New Labour, Thatcher, the warer,
Both had faults, but neither were poorer…
Then Starmer, the Labour beancounter,
Here’s my chance to be a bit of an auger,
He’ll end up being a greater disaster…
Pensioners eat or heat on bread & butter…
Keir, the bystander, babbler, baffler, bamboozler,
The future has never looked dimmer…
He’s allowed a 50% rise in the cost of a Zimmer!
I wonder what they gifted him for a backhander?
But what options are there for the elector?
Conservatives, no, Rishi was their suicider,
What would be phantasmagorical…
Is it possible for him to read this little Ode… oracle?
Will he get the message? He is pretty academical,
Unfortunately, he’s also ungainsayable,
A stream of compassion is easily wadable.
Not to take it is cruel and wackadoodle.
More complex for him is the path to turning veridical,
Is his urge for backhanders & lying unrestrainable?
His actions, to date, have been totally unmollifiable,
For a Labour leader, it is astounding and indefensible.
Anything he says now, after so many lies, is unbelievable,
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During the election, Labour promised they would cut energy bills for good. Labour announced proposals to “set up Great British Energy, a publicly-owned clean power company”, and in the run-up to the election, prominent Labour politicians claimed that this would cut bills by up to £300 a year. What has happened: On January 1, the latest Energy Price Cap came into effect; this is the second time energy bills have risen despite an explicit promise by the government to cut energy bills – another broken promise for which we are now paying very dearly for the price raise!

What has happened: Recently released figures show the number of small boat arrivals has increased since Labour came to power. Between July 5 and December 31 2024, there were 35,242 arrivals by small boat, 33.4% more than in 2023.

Keir Starmer told the country they could trust Labour’spromises not to raise taxes and not to unleash a borrowing spree. In the House of Commons on October 9 this year, he said, ‘’e made an absolute commitment not to raise taxes on working people. Rachel Reeves said a rise in National Insurance was a tax purely on working people. What actually happened: Labour have done just that and more. They fiddled with the fiscal rules, increased borrowing by billions of pounds, and raised taxes on businesses – which they have now admitted will leave working people worse off. The Office of Budget Responsibility said an increase in employer National Insurance will be passed onto workers.

Keir Starmer, Steve Reed, and the Labour Party told farmers that Labour respects them, protects their livelihoods, and promises not to change agricultural property relief for farmers. The CLA conference was reported in the FT on December 23. What actually happened? In the 2024 Autumn Budget, Labour broke its promise to farmers by reducing the relief and imposing inheritance tax rates on farmland. This will devastate family farms and seriously threaten domestic food security and prices.

Amongst LaLabour’sudget of broken promises, Labour has made the political choice to target family farms, and the consequences will be felt by thousands of farms and families across the country. In Yuan YaYang’s election campaign in July 2024 – she said she wanted to help people with fuel bills and keep homes warm with an insulation plan. What happened: On September 10, 86 days after the election, Yuan Yang, our MP, voted to scrap the pensioner’s winter fuel allowance with Starmer’support. Pensioners expected help with heating costs; they didn’t expect the removal of their winter fuel allowance. Yuan Yang, Starmer and Labour taking money from the vulnerable again!
But let’s try to be fair to the pensioner-robber & killer,
He may have a mental issue with which he’s not acquainted.
Oligarchishness, backhander-addiction, or distempered?
Cognisance Impairment makes your brain shackled,
Getting caught lying may have been upsetting?
A mental illness? I’I’veot 3, most maddening,
He constantly shows a poker face… emotionless.
I’d like to help him: my mate’s an acupuncturist?
He walks with a limp, so may he have gout?
He never listens to advice. Does he need an audiologist?
Is he demon-possessed, in need of a psychiatrist?
To help him to keep his promises & guarantees,
That psychiatrist failed; he needs to be ditched!
MPs sit away from Keir in Parliament; have you noticed?
This was advised to them by StStarmer’sastrologist,
Bet he has a neurologist, & a neuroradiologist,
I manage with my GP, last seen on October 5,
I’ll see her again before I die; I’m an optimist…
Although I may be a little over-ambitious,
It’s bout 10 weeks to see my Neurosurgeons,
Have I enough to backhand them…
To make Doreen Dementa scram?
Just in case you read this, Starmer…
And I die under the knife and hammer…
I’m no liar, and I can assure you, Starmer…
I’I’lle your spiritual habituér,
I’I’llring a bottle of the black death…
To sneeze & spill all over you!
So please don’t die before you are due…
I want my revenge; it’ll be long overdue!
Did I mention my hatred for Starmer? ThThis’sy pirlicue.
I FANK YOU!
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TERRIBLE NIGHT – CONFUSING MORNING
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Another Sleepless Night. It has to stop!

Be it Influenza, Norovirus or Stomach Flu, it ain’t nice. I’ve been lucky not to get colds and flu. I’ve had all three jabs. But it’s obviously got me this time. A buildup of phlegm and mucus in the throat and chest. Aches and pains in all my joints. And after several years without as much as a single headache. I’I’vead a cracker for three days now with no relenting. Nausea and talk about stomach rumblings and grumblings… although, to be fair, they are not unusual for me. At least, and last, the altering alternating evacuation modes have all been under Trotsky TeTerence’sontrol since I copped this bug. Constipation Conrad can’t get a look in. Hehe! So, on the bright side, HaHarold’s haemorrhoids are not bleeding anywhere near as badly as they were. I’d like to think the same about Little Inchie Fungal lesion, but the Cather tube is giving me pain more than ever now. I must bend down to release the catheter day bag clip and empty it every time. Then, of course, today, the right testicle is growing again for some reason. It might be on its way to matching last year’s spanish-onion-sized. Tender!

Then there’s Pensioner-Killer-Starmer. How the hell has he not been dethroned, prosecuted or assassinated? Even the Tories said they would keep the winter fuel aid. And they did! Then came Backhander-taking Keir Starmer, the hater of every voter, proletariat, street sleeper, worker, Farmer and Pensioner.
He is enough to make any mortal sick.

Anyway, I’d been lying on the bed for six hours, praying to get to sleep. But no! So I got out of bed and into the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping recliner. I still thought I might yet get some sleep. But No! I was aching all over, inside and out. The blood from the throat, blow my nose, blood on the tissue. Only specs of it, mind you. Then, the odd sneezing bouts started. Now, these were scary. I was still not feeling tired. Worn out, yes!

Grindingly slowly, time moved on. I sat there, with the coughs, sneezes, and painful pouch emptying keeping me company.
Had I not been so weary, I’I’dave gone to get the ablutions done. I thought about it a few times, but my body disagreed. Suddenly, I realised the time. I’d be sat there for hours! And it was 0750 already. Guilt and needing the Porcelain Throne forced me to drag my aching body and attachments to the wet room. I was lucky I hadn’t delayed things cause the moment I’d removed the dressing gown and lifted my nightshirt (You can’t touch me for that, Hehehe!) The Trotsky Terence evacuation flooded out. I think I was lucky. Back to the aged, grotty-looking c1966 made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, HarHarold’semorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner. I think I felt a bit sorry for at this time.
I had a few rapid . Which threw me off kilter. It was now gone eight o’clock and a Carer been, and I was in a seizure and couldn’t member the visit? I then remembered the surgery ringing me with the new Warfarin dosages last night. So, I wrote them out from the notepad and put them in the CarCarer’sg cover. I checked to see if anyone had filled it in the log. But, no! I settled back down in the second-hand shop bought nine years ago for £300, c1966 made, discomfiting, alarmingly beige-coloured, crumb-containing, TV remote hiding, not working recliner. The aches and pains, not the usual ones, the neck, chest, stomach, & joints got worse. as I sat there awaiting the Carer to call. I anticipated they may be late, but having three staff off poorly makes getting cover from other sites difficult. I added some juice to two bottles of spring water and started gulping it down. I was slowly coming out of the seizure… Or so I thought. But you know how lucky I am. Huh! I put the TV on, hoping it may help me to nod off. But no!

At about 10:00 hrs, there was no Caregiver, so I forced myself to use the computer. Not that my mind was ready or willing to use it. And headaches, especially behind my eyes, returned.

At the same time, the gurgling and rumbling from my innards suggested that I get back to the post Haste! So, I did!
Trotsky Terence was still in command, but the colour had changed. It had a distinctive metallic whiff or pong that accompanied the evacuation procedure. And it lingered. I used the fresh air spray.

I returned to the computer; I could not concentrate as I had anticipated. However, I did add a few decent lines to the start of today’s Ode.

At about 10 minutes to 12, Carer Sam arrived. She checked the taps on leaving. The morning carer had not arrived. I made no fuss about it.

I then returned to the computer and surprisingly began to get along well with the Odeing. It was long, and I had to verify everything I mentioned about the murderer ‘He’r Starmer’!

Was joined by , stopping me from doing anything else on the blog. On the bright side, I think the phlegm and sore throat were all a little easier this evening. So this cheered me up more than it should have because within minutes of writing this, it made me eat my thoughts and words, and she took over as my Master-Pain-Mangler for the rest of the day, well, evening.
This got me concerned over the lack of medication available for easing . I’ve mentioned the problem to every Carer since I found out a few days ago. But no one is advising me or informing me. I dipped into a self-centred depression and decided to see if I could try to get some sleep-catching up done. I got down 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’, ‘n the TV and eat the meal.

Carer Simon called a little earlier than usual, but he had been drafted in again from his own place of work. I mentioned the shortages of my Angina medications again. I felt sorry for the Carers. With three off work, it’s no wonder they don’t have time to advise or help me. However, putting the Liberty-Global Virgin Media TV on was frustrating. Still, I got there in the end… and within a minute, had nodded off into La-La land, and it was great, lovely; after three nights of sleeplessness, minutes later, the water alarm sounded in the kitchen. But I heard it, so I had to get up and check things out. Then the telephone landline rang. It was The NCC control room about the alarm. After further investigating why the alarm had activated, I noticed the washing-up liquid bottle was almost empty. I had a leak that ran over the counter and down onto the alarm box on the floor. Humph!

Sugar & Surreptitious Sodnesses!
I was attacked by two of my beloved ailments at the same instant. (again) & .
That was the end of my memories of the night.

I do recall ordering some cough medicine.

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Tomorrow Will Be A Better Day. Who am I kidding?
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Now I am worried. When I checked this blog, I found 157 errors! I have no doubt I missed some. My eyesight is blurry. How the hell did I do so many things wrong? It might have been unrecognised mini-seizures. It’s not boding well!

Yours, from anxious Inchy!

Inchy: Tuesday 21st January 2025

22/01/2025 / Inchie / 7 Comments

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Last night, I spent coughing very chestily,
And kept sneezing cacophonously,
Passing wind virtually continuously…
From Reflux Roger and my bottie,
Freezingly and shiveringly,
My tears ran down into my mouth; rather salty,
Little Inchie’s fungal lesion bled capriciously…
Sleep? Well, that was an impossibility,
I was dealing with these new ailments intolerantly,
But Thought Storming Steve gave no claptrappery,
I gave up trying to do things somnambulatory,
And escaped the bed to the lavatory,
Trotsky Terence came prematurely…
This was most shamefully embarrassingly!
Then, the job of doing the cleaning,
More problems when I started computing…
Gmail graphics on it, refusing!
I took Codeine and an Adrenocorticotrophin,
Got my mask on, and Carer Chloe came in,
As she sorted the medicationing…
The food delivery was arriving…
The driver took the bags through to my kitchen,
I forgot to ask Chloe to put my socks on…
Today, there was many an omission,
Chloe left, and I sank into a state of curmudgeon,
As I fought back the incoming depression,
Second Throne visit – even more humiliating,
What am I dreaming of, imagining, indicating?
Diabetic Dementia, mind juggling…
Yet this cold seemed more worrying & bothering?
Enough of my self-tormenting, witwantoning,
I going to get this Ode done, then my bed I will jump in,
Carer Sam called, and I was moaning…
My self-pity vessel was filling,
Life is not very fulfilling…
I’ll battle on, but I’m not genuinely willing,
My bad luck seems unrelenting,
Onto the bed, I’ll soon be settling,
Will I be able to manage to get some sleeping?
If owt happens, that’s worthy of writing,
Anything worth reporting…
No camera for photographing…
Where am I going?
What am I doing?
What will ensue for me?
Maybe a summat will happen. That’s thrilling…
Enchanting, stirring, exhilarating?
Huh, blood from the teeth & gums are flowing!
Onto the bed, in search of Sweet Morpheus,
Oh, I’m expecting the nurse…
Hristina, a lovely, kind gal, an Aquarius
I love to see her and her apparatus!
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Sleep didn’t come, but apprehensiveness did,
The next few hours were fetid, which made me livid,
Getting no sleep, but I felt almost intrepid…
The following events didn’t make me stolid,
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Here are the reasons why I hadn’t slept,
An alarm went & stopped,
Then there rang out a fire alarm, I panicked
An alarm went beep-beep-beep-bleep & stopped,
I couldn’t work out what it was, but hoped,
The landline rang, someone had phoned…
I got to it too late; the ringing stopped,
Again, the landline rang; too late, the ringing stopped,
An alarm went beep-beep-beep and stopped,
I couldn’t work out what it was, but hoped,
After five hours a minute’s sleep, I was gifted,
Then the alarm went beep-beep-beep & stopped,
Carer Chris came in, into the drinks selection he dived,
Then, a drink was chosen & correlated,
Again, the landline rang; someone had phoned…
I got to it too late; the ringing stopped,
Then Cartilage Carol once again crumpled,
But a complete fall was deflected…
The leg was medicated & elastoplasted,
An alarm going beep-beep-beep was emitted,
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Carer Chris had forgot to bring the camera,
But he took a shot of the meal & bilgewater!
And the hospital bed, & controller,
On his phone, saved these to his SND recorder,
Said he’s off work for 72 hours,
Wants to be with his wife, who is now pregnanter,
Carer Richard & Joanne off, both much poorlier,
I know how they feel with acute coryza,
Head cold, grinding-coughing, known as Flu-R,
It is unpleasant and a right miserable bugger!
I tried to get some sleep, but it was deactivated…
But my plans were again ascerbated…
Don’t come to hospital, sufferers are told…
The hospitals are so busy, shemozzled,
My plans, ideas, & hopes have been sphacelated,
Flu-R is so bad that I’m dumbfounded,
If I stood up, moved or even quetched,
Ailments these last two days have quintuplicated!
I feel my designs have been mancipated,
My thoughts could do with being manumitted,
shame, embarrassment, teeth always gritted!
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Today, I felt as if I was apprenticing…
Coping with this new bug or flu and learning,
I rang 111 to ask what I could be taking?
To counter the constant sneezing?
My heavy breathing and wheezing?
My impossibility to get any sleep in?
Can I take an alcoholic drinkie?
To counter the phlegm & blubbering?
NHS 111 said don’t take Aspirin…
Cause you’re on Finasteride & Warfarin,
Well, that was not very informing!
Then they added I’m not to go to hospital…
Doreen Dementia understood it was elemental,
I considered bringing up my mental problems.
The line went dead; it was pretty comical!
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Figures show urgent and emergency services, with 98,118 ambulances handed over to hospitals last week and 495,442 calls received by NHS 111. No wonder they are struggling to cope with the stampede!
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I’m fed up with this bug! Tsk!

Useless Inchy: Monday 30th December 2024

31/12/2024 / Inchie / 4 Comments

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I just had to copy this one!
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It’s so important to hang on to hope,
I thought of this today when I awoke,
Without him, life is all upslope,
You should keep him on a tightrope,
Have you ever caught a single raindrop?
Shouted for help from the rooftop?
Lost your thoughts while taking a troke?
Caught flu, COVID, shingles or croup?
Did you have a heart op or a cystoscope?
Been shot, imprisoned or had amblyope?
Are you deaf, neurotic or have deuteranope?
A catheter fitted? Had an oesophagoscope?
Your feet & ankles turned a deep heliotrope?
Is it different every single time you poop?
Does Peripheral Neuropathy make you quoke?
If something goes right, do you glope?
Do you stutter or make the odd malaprop?
Do all others consider you a fruitloop?
To counter these things, you need hope,
You must attain it, try mentally to evoke,
Hope? I’ve never met the bloke!
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A cold health alert has been issued for the East Midlands, warning them that an upcoming cold spell could affect vulnerable people and cause a rise in pensioner deaths.
No doubt Pensioner-killer Starmer will be tickle-pink
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It seems I’ll have to get used to every night’s sleep being broken, and the abysmal lack of rest and peace will undoubtedly see me off earlier than I expected visiting St Peter. What with our beloved PM, who robbed me of my Cold Weather Allowance? And the caregivers forgot to put my diabetic socks on again. Brrr!
Still, it’ll unquestionably please the living-ready reckoner beyond the reach of any moderator, who’s a hot shot at jiggling truth and data... I mean, of course, the conspiratorial, surreptitious, duplicitous Herr Heil Starmer! Sorry about that, I got a smidgeon carried away there.

I began the battle to get out of the bed. Back-Pain-Brenda and Cartilages Chloe & Carole were unhappy being forced to move at 0500hrs. I noticed there was not much in the Ncturnal night pouch this morning. At first, I was most satisfied to see the bright colour, but when I got around to emptying it, I realised that it was one of the new ones that eBay had delivered last night. These were much cheaper than the others available but did not have a release valve. Also, the PVC, or plastic bag, was much thinner, and the urine was much darker as I cut the bag. Can’t win’em all!

I got into the kitchenette to check things; no taps had been left on, and no doors or windows were left open. I avoided going into a .
The sky was fog and mist-free! That’s because the snow and ice will be brewing from Storm Darrach, bringing Red Warnings for Wind and Snow. Apparently, the lowest temperature recorded in Nottingham was −13.3 °C (8.1 °F) on 13 January 1987 and 23 January 1963. That’ll cheer up amphibologically-trained murderer Starmer. I can see it now; “200 Nottingham pensioners died in last night’s storm.” Herr backhander-taking Starmer was told, he replied, “So?”

I am so frustrated and angry!
After being free of them for so long, I’d worked on this blog for nine hours off and on when the Seizures started.
I was so close to finishing it when they came. I felt things were getting more manageable and more transparent, and I expected to find some errors as I seemed to have been doing it for hours while under the influence. After coming around, what I saw made me so irate and self-condemnatory! I am still stewing inside and not in a suitable mode or mood to do much! I am feeling frustrated and depressed! I could almost cry now, my temper had calmed down. Hello, it’s returning with a vengeance…
I scrolled to see what cock-ups I’d made…
And somehow or other, I found I’d published the blog.
But even worse, I must have put it in the WP bin!
Then I discovered that over 2 thirds of the work I’d done was no longer on the editor when I retrieved it.
All those hours of concentration amidst seizures – Gone!
It’s late and dark now. But I shall try to put some more on, but there’s no heart in it. All that work! Of course, to save space in my memory, I deleted some photographs saving space.
My self-anger is building up again as I type.
The sky is red, and I had to force myself to get up to take a photo; that’s not me, this isn’t me.
Have I died? and am having a final nightmare? All that stuff I’d done. Some witty, some sarcastic. But it was all a little entertaining, I thought. There were many insults about Starmer – but not now. I’m even nervous to try again. Thoroughly depressed beforehand. Knowing it could happen again if the seizures or shakes return. I’m heartbroken, I think.
I’m going to have to think about this. What to do?

Well, I’ve ‘thunk’.
I’ll not have time to reproduce the same quality as the old blog. I’ll probably never again produce one with the same wit and hilarity as the original. This makes it so much harder to cope with; it was a rare cracking blog. And I was so happy with it.
What the hell went wrong? I’ll not even try to get it as good… well, I can’t now in this mood, and there’s no time to try anyway. Depression is far too weak a word for how I feel at this precise moment in time. I’ll use my few notes and photos, but as I said, there is no heart in it after what I call the ‘Sodding-seizure-to-blame’ disaster. It’ll likely all be out of sync chronologically. I can’t remember the whats, whens and whys now – And I’m not all that bothered either. It could be messy.
I’ll do my bestest, but it’ll not be good.

Starting the second try…
Waste bags sorted.

Carer Richard, Carer Chloe. The last two were Carer Promise.

First emptying of the day catheter.
Bloody and nearly 8500ml worth!

Fogless day.

Mug of 99 tea.

Cobblers.
I just looked on CorelDraw, and I think a few original photos were on the page—I’m sure they were—but not a Bloody one!
What the hell had I been doing?

Say no more…

No record to use for two more hours.

The night shots I had to force myself to take.

Carer Promise came. In a rush, but he did listen to my moaning about myself and the computer cock-ups. Thanks, Promise.

Worries about what I wrote on the first blog…
It took me such a long time to select the wording, but I have no time now, so this will be, in short – a shame. I even smiled at the original moans when I wrote it.

Current concerns;
Getting the hearing aids mended.
I have to book an appointment. The Caregiver said they don’t, so it’s up to me to do it. So, if I can miraculously hear them on the phone and get an appointment…
Then I have to ring Easy-Link to book a lift to and from the audio centre… So, if I can miraculously hear them on the phone
If they can’t fit me in…
I have to call the audio centre to cancel the appointment and get another one made. That would be great if I could miraculously hear whoever was on the phone.
Then, I’ll have to call Easy-Link again to see if they can get it for me that day—if I can miraculously hear them on the phone. Huh!
It’s a Circus – round & round I go… getting anywhere? No!
Six weeks now, I’ve still not got my hearing aids mended!

Another problem is that the nocturnal catheter pouches are not arriving. Richard told me I had to phone the District nurses.
If I can miraculously hear them on the phone.
An unexpected box arrived last week. Thanks to Dementia Doreen and Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, I thought the box contained the night bags.
I got down to the last night’s pouch.
Ended up spending a small fortune getting some pouches from eBay and Amazon. Luckily, Amazon arrived on Monday; eBay should arrive on Tuesday. The ones I have now do not have any release valve on them, but they were two-thirds the cost of the EBay ones.
Carer Kara used to manage all these things for me; she was a blessing, not in disguise.
I had written three more problems, I think, on the first blog, but I can’t remember what they were at the moment.

Nosh!
Despite my low spirits, I countered them by telling myself that whatever lousy luck I suffered, I must deserve it. I should accept these Accifauxpa & Whoopsiedangleplops without all my childish moaning and groaning, self-castigating episodes.
What you give is often what you get – despite not knowing precisely what it is, I must be guilty of it with my luck. Did you know I did the lottery for a couple of years, my neighbour, Jock, won 18 times in 1978. I never won a sausage. So, the sins I committed must have occurred before then.
I lost the plot again there, sorry.
I still enjoyed this mini feast.