Inchcock Today: Monday 12th September 2022

Inchcock Blames the new medications for this Ode.
They are called Talimogene Laherparepvec.
He hopes he will never have to ask for any.
How are you supposed to Pronounce it? Hehehe!
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Having to boil kettles and saucepans cause the hot water is not hot. And the shakes and dizzies have been rampant! So no Diary as such, just bits I can recollect, and from a few scribbled unreadable notes. Sorry! Owing to many cock-ups and the camera not working for some unknown reason.

06:30hrs: I woke; it’d been another night of waking ups again. And I rose, dragging the superfluously elephantine-bellied body up on the poor feet, and caught my balance. And went to check if the hot water was hot yet. It wasn’t!

I mused over whether or not to have a shave in the lukewarm water… the usual decision-making routine. Humming and hawing, dilly-dallying and generally fence-sitting, procrastination took over. After last night’s mega-shaving nicks, I was dubious… but I went ahead again and had a stand-up wash & shave. Amazing how one can cut oneself so easily! Of course, during the shaving session, I had a and , which ensured that the blood flowed. The cold hop water did nothing to stop it from flowing. So I had an expensive Brute splashing session that did the trick, temporarily.

Off to the kitchen, intending to make a brew of Thompson’s Punjana tea.
I got sidetracked by the moon that was still trying to get through.
Took the wide shot and then tried to get a decent zoomed-in picture. So, you can see, I didn’t exactly do a good job of it. Humph! No sooner had I zoomed in; guess who paid me another visit?

I got the waste bags made up, only two this morning for Richard; if he comes, it should be. I got his treats, and thank-you bag made up, all bar the fresh stuff in the fridge.

Next, I got the done. Another giant leap for mankind! Hehehe! Terrible results! SYS shot up to 173, DIA a massive 146, and even the Pulse was an astronomical 98!!!

Not good, is it? Can’t wait until tomorrow to see if it’s back down again. I mentioned these fluctuating results to the Doctor last week – I didn’t even get an answer, scoff or tut from her? Yet Sunday’s figures were marvellous?

I got on the computer and got myself in a double mess at the same time, more or less. First, the photo reader was toying with me, but I kept all calm and went through the usual routine to try and get it working again. I’m so proud of myself; for making and keeping a list of what I tried last time, and I kept it handy in the left-hand drawer!
As I was working my way through the actions to try… I realised that I must have scratched at the chin, and the blood was flowing again. Nothing like badly, just little streaks, but it took me ages and about ten sheets of kitchen towel and £3 worth of Brut to get it to stop! I know this is impossible, but I thought I heard  laughing; hehe!

The morning Carer arrived, it was No-Yawning-Richard. He looked a lot better in himself today. I think it’s because it is his first day back after his break in shifts.
He noticed the bloody tissues in the waste bucket. I informed the lad of the hot water being off for three days. Richard got onto the phone and reported Nottingham City Homes Maintenance of the problem without messing about. Told me they would be coming sometime today. Bless him. None of the other carers does that for me. So glad I gave him an extra big bag of nibbles and drinks now! He looked at the blood pressure,
He didn’t do a wristlet alarm battery check, but last week if I recall, he did it on a Wednesday. He’ll not forget to.
He’s a good lad, and seeing him more like himself was a pleasure.

After I’d bade Richard farewell and all the best, I returned to the computer.
But not for long. Carol rang; she wanted to do the laundry. Lovely! The poor gal has been covering for Esther. Who decided to stay two more weeks on her holiday in South Africa, leaving poor Carol in a quandary. He thought she was away for three weeks, and she made plans of her own. Now she is struggling to get the washing done for everyone. Bless her. 

Then, a memory blank fell over me. No more notes on the memory pad. I had to check on WordPress to see if I’d finished and sent off the Sunday post. Luckily I had!
I think I lost about four or five hours. Not sure if any plumber had called?

Sort of came back to mock-life, and I was working on words for the Ode. So I carried on.
I went to make a brew and found a cold pored mug of tea next to the kettle. I wonder when I made that? No milk it, stone cold! Also, a packet of BBQ rice was on the counter, and the oven was on… nothing in it!
I got on and started this blog so late it was well into the afternoon; in fact, it was almost evening! Kicked off, and I’m nearly out of Peptac now. Not that it is any good, just better than nothing.

Jodie arrived. Again she came in without pressing the chime and came right up behind me as I was concentrating on the computer. She’ll give me a heart attack one day! I asked if Jodie could press the button before coming in (again). But all it got was a smile! Hehe! Still, She’s not a bad gal. I remembered the chocolate mints I’d been meaning to give her since last Friday. Got the medications given to me, and she was soon off.

Aha, the intercom lit up. Twas, the plumber from Nottingham City Homes Maintenance. He looked around and told me the additional switch in the airing cupboard had been turned off. Probably the Friday plumber who solved the leaking tap turned it off for some reason? Cause I’ve had no hot water since Saturday? He assured me that it would start getting hot after ten PM. GrrreatI Gave him a choice of thank you treats, and off he went! 

I carried on with the blogging. At about half-passed ten, I checked the hot water situation. Still cold. I must be patient. I got the roast veg risotto in the oven and will add the microwave BBQ-flavoured rice later. Then when both are ready, put them in a dish and add some vegan BBQ sauce.
After eating it, I’ll test the hot water again. Please be working!

Got the nosh sorted out.
As planned, the BBQ-flavoured Ben’s rice and roast vegetable risotto. Some mini-tomatoes.
A diddly pot of lemon mousse for afters.
This was the meal of the year up to now! Fantastic flavour! Taste: 9.3/10!

Went to check on the hot water. It was still only lukewarm! .
How disappointing! I think I may have sworn a little under my breath in frustration. 

Inchcock Today: Diary & Ode, Sunday 22nd May 2022

Ah, the future of mankind, or an individual punter…
I’m not bothered about myself neverthemore…
My only claim for fame is being an ambidexter!
What prospects are there for the uneducated poor?
They can’t get a job as lamplighter…
They’ve even closed HMP Dartmoor?
Today’s youth will become even boozier,

Price rises will stir more violence and rancour,
The future for proletariat ankle snappers is unsure,
Innocents will be scared to leave their own front door,
Putin, of course, can make a life but a blur…
The Government’ll be worried about expenditure…
It won’t matter if you’re an unclever, underachiever,
In the shelter under No.10, they can still party and decanter?

Hospitals, police gone, what the hell can the poor sods do?
How many have died could be Boris’s main issue…
But it won’t be, I can assure you,
The Stock Market they’ll review,
Sell, sell, sell, or whatever they do…
Claiming insurance on MPs destroyed homes, too…
Scared stiff MPs… what will the stock market do?

Weapon selling will get very little revenue…
Gunrunners flooded the market; it’s all ambrew!
In nuclear fall-out, we’ll all be sodden through,
Fear not of no toilet paper; worry about no loo!
In need of help? There’ll be no one to go to…
But no need to fret; I’m not trying to scare you…
Bur, what if there is no nuclear pas-de-deux?
Oh… I’ve just got a papercut in my pirclicue…

If Putin takes war off of the Moscow maniac’s to-do list…
The proletariats could go back to getting pissed…
Cause it’d be better not to die and go see a traumatologist,
Train for a job in music? What about as a bassoonist?
Or join a drug gang, and you could become the rowdiest?
If you get caught, tell the Police all, get it off yer chest!
Best spend drug money made on a barrister, honest!

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Sunday, 22nd May 2022

05:454hrs: I woke up and passed the wind. Then I thought about having a wee-wee, but the need for the Porcelain Throne arrived suddenly. I had to gather my thoughts on getting out of the recliner and getting the balance exercises done in time to get to the wet room.

Which I managed without skipping any of the sequences of moves. Damned good session for once.

Then, I needed an extra weewee after the main event was over. Oh, dear, I rushed about to get back in and went a little heavy-handedly on getting to Little Inchie, and I started off the Fungal Lesion bleeding. I cleared and washed things after the leak and had the job of applying the ointment. All I can say is,

I was sorting out waste bags and making a brew when Valerie arrived. After she gave me the medications and went through some questions.

Instant panic overcame me: “Had I left the hot water tap running?” The short answer is ‘YES, I had!

Not only that, in my lunge at the faucet to turn it off, I knocked the cold mug of tea over… one would have expected it to go into the sink… but, oh, no… This is me we are talking about, remember. The luckiest man in Nottingham. The mug bounced in the tap flow onto the edge of the sink, pouring the contents left in it down the front of my pyjamas; I had to clean the cupboard door, sink, floor and my rotund body with cold water! Luckily I now have an ever-increasing mass of flesh all around my midriff, which I pushed up against the sink to stop the mug from falling further – Which meant my protection pants and jammies got the worst water!

Despite my lousy language and wailing, Carer Valerie was oblivious to what had happened. After cleaning things up, she came into the kitchen (She’s not daft!) Off she trotted, taking the waste bag with her for me.

The tap water is now running cold, and it will do so until the heating comes back early tonight! No shaving or owt until then. Humph! I do hate myself at times! Doreen Dementia does it. If ever I get interrupted doing anything, there is always a high risk of a Faux pas, and I forget what the other thing I was doing was… Grunglenagwaggles! I think?

I double-checked the taps, lights, etc., and got the potatoes into the crockpot. There was another Throne visit and two more weewees, and I started prepping things for Josie’s meal.

I got the pork out and added it to the bowl with the sliced onions, mushrooms and leeks. And spotted some string within the edges of the rind of the meat? So, as if I’d not lost enough time already, I had to check over all the meat to see if there was any more string. Good job that I checked it; I found another small piece. (Photo)

It took me ages with cataracts, and I found closing the right eye gave me a slightly better view… But of course, it warped the peripheral view, and I knocked the boning knife off of the counter. It now has its pointed end dented around into a sharp point. What are the odds of another Accifauxpas?

I was washing a basin I’d used, and the landline chimed out. I had to get the basin safe and rushed to get to the phone in time; it took a while. It was Sister Jane. She was in line at the City Ground to collect her ticket for the play-off final for Forest.

Now, this is proof, if the Doctor wants any, that I have Vascular Dementia Doreen: I suddenly thought I might have left the tap running (Cold Water) and excused myself to go and check. I had to, no choice. I grabbed metal Micky and off to the kitchen… The tap was dribbling, and for some reason, I thought it was the hot water tap, and also totally forgot about my leaving the hot water one on earlier, and thought… well, I’m not sure, but I think I told Jane, when I got back to the landline, the hot water tap has run cold? Every time something takes my attention away from what I’m doing, there is a possibility of such farces happening!

However, I didn’t realise this at the time, and we had a chinwag about footy, family etc., for a good while. Colin Cramps was kicking off in the left hand, the bent arm holding the phone for so long; Jane had the same problem, Fatal! Hehehe! Fatal! I foolishly took a swig of nearly cold tea using my right.

Listening to Jane talk, I grabbed some kitchen towels to try to wipe things up. I spilt some tea on the desktop and memory notepad. What the hell next? A little later, Jane rang off as her cramps were getting painful. Bless her.

I cleared up the mess that left some indecipherable scribble on the pad; oh, dear! At long last, I got around to getting the Health Checks done.

At least these results were outstanding all around. SIS 132, DIA 62, Pulse at 79. And the body temperature was the highest it’s been all year. Not that my mind appreciated it at the time. All I could think of was getting yesterday’s blog updated and sent off, let alone thinking of getting this one started! I took some snaps of the car park on Chestnut Way. No RVM? (Red Van Man) I had a look around…

Aha, I found RVM. Parked in the front section. And… parked legally and properly too!

Down below on the right end, I spotted the regularly good parkers, having snuggled their vehicle in nice and tidily!

I updated the Saturday post and got it posted off, much belatedly than planned. Even I didn’t expect so much hassle, Accifauxpas and Whoopsiedangleplop to emerge, even for a Sunday! Surely things have got to calm down? Fingers crossed.

Deciding to treat myself to a non-alcoholic, not a Cocktail, but Mocktail. I enjoyed it… until I remembered that it had pineapple in it. What a pillock! Hopefully, it will not affect the Warfarin INR level too much. I looked at the NHS DVT site about fruits to avoid when on Warfarin. In order of the highest in Vitamin K ones: Dates, Plantains, Kiwifruit, Rhubarb, Cranberries, Pineapple, Avocados, Blueberries, and Blackberries. They added; Certain drinks: Cranberry juice, and Alcohol, can increase the effect of Warfarin, leading to bleeding problems. Avoid or consume only teensy-weensy amounts of Cranberry juice and Alcohol. These drinks, when taking Warfarin, can prove fatal in the event of a bleed. Fair enough, I was aware of all of these.

Da-Daa! I hope she likes it again and that there are no more bits of string in the meat! I got Josie’s meal presented and delivered with a few treats and nibbles.

On the computer, WordPress Reader first. Then Facebooking. Finally, WP Comments. Then remembered to check on Amazon to see when the plates were due to arrive. The Amazon site said they were expected to arrive twixt 16:00 and 1800hrs. Fair enough!

They were: 25 Pcs Disposable Palm Leaf Plates – Organic Wooden Plates Biodegradable and Compostable Natural Eco-Friendly Square Party Plates 15×15 cm. I can’t say why I ordered them, but it seemed a good idea at the time. I think there was some specific use I had in mind? But with the mind being under the influence of Doreen’s Dementia, I don’t recall. Not that that is anything unusual. I like the idea of them being eco-friendly?

I pressed on with making this template, then got to record some actual facts and words. For the more discerning blogger to peruse, of course. Both of them! Hehe! The card reader accepted the photos taken today.

Then the plates arrived from Mr Amazon. By gum, they are so light! They have unevenness across the base. Which may cause me problems when moving or using them and the Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, Shuddering Shoulder-Shirley, or Dizzy Dennis kick-off when I’m eating off them? I wish I could remember what it was about them; they must have sounded attractive when I ordered them?

I’m so behind with this blog now; the Evening Carer will be here soon. I was obviously not going to get a shower today or a meal until very late. But despite the hassle, I do love creating my Inchcock Today… Ah, that reminds me, I’d better go and check on the state of the fungal lesion. Back in a bit…

Carer Sarah arrived. Got me sorted, and we had a laugh and natter for a couple of minutes, which I enjoyed.

Worked on the blog, but I was so far behind. Weariness won the battle, and I got down to get some kip. It was late, about midnight, and I was doing my health, mental and eyes no good staying up this late.

At least when I got down, I was soon in the arms of Sweet Morpheus. But had a weird dream; that seemed to go on and on all night?

Inchcock: Ode to Old Nottingham Memories

Inchcock Loses the plot in this ode to Old Nottingham Memories

But he does his bestest, honest!

Nottingham has many virtues, good, bad and chronic…
Its history, of being Saxonic,
It’s people grand, pleb’s, murderers, some moronic,
Nowadays, we’ve bred more that are demonic…
Muggers, gangsters, shop lifter, a lot, schizophrenic…
A few have car insurance, and not many have a driving licence…
Younger Nottinghamians music is cacophonic…
Thousands of students, so some scientific…
We’ve had many arrested for being terroristic.

Many of them you’d think were telluric,
The job-shy, call having a cold being sick!
Many old uns like me, who remember Sputnik…
Using lard to make their spotted dick!
We’re snided out with those sarcastic…
Even more of them are vandalistic!
Gone are the days of the workaholic…
But also gone, getting polio, scabies and colic!
Hopes for our citizenry? Like a trip on the Titanic!

The tin bath dragged inside from the wall, metallic…
No bath salts, we made do with soap, carbolic!
Hot water, Ha! Boil it on the stove or fire; unhygienic!
The toilet outside at the end of the yard is unproblematic!
Mind you, in winter, I was a smidgeon unenthusiastic…
Coal-house out there, fetching wood could be traumatic,
In the dark, you could kill a rat or cat hidden – tragic!
But lazing in front of the coal fire was magic!
Until the burning ashes shot out, and the carpet got lit!

Anything to be written was in pencil or pen and ink!
We knew nowt about an uplink, hard-drive or weblink,
Mobile, cell phone, wristwatch, dentist or permalink,?
Our pleasures limited, Monopoly, maybe tiddlywink…
Swearing was minimal then, ratfink, burke or gink!
Getting the belt for devilry made us wince and squint!
I got a few lashes once, a day out…for not looking perjink!
I recall once, the lads writing on my leg splint…
Not a lot of it was spelt right; they put sinnt for sent…
But thickness and ignorance permeated wherever I went!

I tried to join a club once, ended up getting a blackballing!
My education, manners, and appearance were appalling!
My approach to girls, looking back… was bloodcurdling!
9 times out of 10, her admirers would end up brawling!
With me, the littlest, the one that kept falling & failing!
On this embarrassing subject, I’ll stop burbling!

Amongst the unknown to us was Methamphetamine,
Mind you, we’d a neighbour who’d supply whisky and gin…
I got IPA, Mackeson, Guinness, thus started drinking…
My intake, for many years, there was no curtailing…
But my love of beer was never really disabling,
Until cancer arrived, there was only one way of controlling…
I singularly went from a happy drinker to totally abstaining!
It was hard, so hard to do, I still find it appealing…
But without any help, encouragement or counselling,
I turned tea-total… smug-mode developing!

I became a keen lover of food and masticator,
My weight ballooned, and furthermore…
Got myself a duodenal ulcer…
Cancer of the bladder…
Then diabetes and nasty hernia…
Peripheral neuropathy, oh, bother!
A stroke, which left me a confused procrastinator…
Disabled, what next? Cataracts, Saccades and Glaucoma!
I was already going deaf, then bother with an incisor!

And to think, I used to be a blood-doner..,
Also, now, I do tend to stutter…
Still struggle with the wee-weeing bother,
Then I was confirmed to have Vascular Dementia…
This life has been terrible… yet also an adventure!
Oh, and the back’s developing a curvature…
I think its best to try and stay demure,
About there is no chance of a cure,
The failing eyesight is worrying me more…

Did I deserve all these ailments? That’s up for conjecture,
Is that the right word? I’ll check… Yes, no error!
Things seemed better in the days of yore, thereinbefore,
The Carers’ cost a lot, that’s for sure…
A little good luck, I could do with some more?
Dementia Doreen’s in control, I’m sure, that I can assure…
Yet at times, she rests, releases the memory-core…
If she returns and comes back to the fore,
She’s my ever-present concentration annihilator!

Sorry, I see my starting thoughts got juxtaposed…
Did my thought waves get overdiagnosed?
Is Dementia Doreen no longer comatose,
Or my incredulous logic, become indisposed?
Have I been overeating glucose,
I’ve just eaten a banana, and I’m adipose!
Would it be alright to have Marmite on toast?
The plot’s gone again – what a terrible host!.

Inchcock’s Abysmal Odeing – For Fun

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The most used room of the day!

Part of the Inchcock’s Make ‘Em Laugh Series

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

TFZer Sweet Shirley ♥

Friday 12th June 2020

Sethoso: Labohlano la 12 Tšitoe 2020

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

15:55hrs: The intercom chimed out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Inchcockski – Sunday 7th June 2020: I neared the zeneth of inconclusiveness, today!

Sunday 7th June 2020

Croatian: Nedjelja, 7 Lipnja 2020 Godine

TFZers in the pool!

03:30hrs: I stirred reluctantly and felt the need for a wee-wee developing. I took a snap of the sadly overgrown toenails, and they stuck out from the thin quilt. I must get this quilt hand-washed later today, along with the two zip-up jumpers, I’m not too keen on the idea, but needs must and all that!

I ejurated common sense and went to get up without checking on the ailments first. No sooner nearly upright, and I was back down again with a ‘Thud,’ back into the £300, c1968, second-hand, sickeningly-beige-coloured, none working, ramshackle, uncomfortable in the extreme, rusty, rickety, near-lethal, recliner. Harold’s Haemorrhoids were instantly proffering forth pain, and, judging by the wet warm sensation, were bleeding as well! Not a very promising start to the day!

After a few mild curse words and questioning of my point in continuing, I regained my composure. And checked over things, yes, the piles will need attention. So, gingerly I made my way to the wet room. I took a WSSUGG (Weak-Squirty-Spraying-Uncontrollable-Greeny-Grey) wee-wee and investigated the rear-ends requirements. Cleaning and medicating ensued. (Silver-Lining Findings): At least Little Inchies fungal lesion was not bleeding. I had a good wash of the hands. I got a bit carried away with it, Hehehe!

Off to the kitchen, to get the medications, palmoscopy, injecting, creaming, ear holes oiling, and sphygmomanometerisationing was done.

The SYS was back up high again, Sys 172, DIA 79, Pulse 80, and the temperature was 35.4°c. There was no need for any extra pain-killers this morning. The rear end is a bit sore where I fell back down in the chair on Harold’s Haemorrhoids, but not too bad.

As I was taking this shot of the morning view, it dawned on me, I seek not fortunes or fame, but only ataraxia.  But obviously, this is impossible; I don’t think it exists for anyone on earth, just a daydream state of mind. At the back of my warped troubled brain, I hoped I was wrong. I am an idiot! 

I decided to take a photo of a chap who was walking down the middle of Chestnut Walk to the hill up to Woodthorpe Grange Park.

Now, how I managed to take four pictures is beyond me! I checked the camera, and it was on the ‘Auto’ option. Then as he walked to the gravel hill, I took another photo but took two this time?

Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters were not playing up, nor was Shaking Shaun or Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley. So why, how?

I made another brew of Thompsons Punjana and started on the updating of the Saturday blog. Then another graphic finished the Saturday blog, posted it, and the links off. On to Pinterest, WordPress Reader, then TFZer Facebooking.

Stopped to get ablutions tended to. And a fantastic session it was! Dropsies? No more than eight, no toe-stubbings, trapped fingers. No knocking into or anything over either!

Smug-Mode-Engaged!.

The leg ulcer looks like it’s changed its mind about coming back and is much fainter now. I’m chuffed with this accident-free ablution session!

Made a start preparing Josie’s and my cheesy potatoes. Chives, grated Leicester cheese, salt and a knob of butter, well bashed and mashed. Got Josie’s meal on the server tray, and wheeled it to her door. She seemed pleased with it.

I got stuck into my nosh. The boiled new potatoes had been in the crock-pot for about six-hours but were not fully cooked, so they found their way into the waste bin sharpish. Flavour Rated: 5/10. A smidge disappointed, I rose and got the washing-up done, and as I did so, the doorbells chimed out.

Blimey, I’d forgotten all about the Amazon delivery coming. Burkinhamianism! It was the Stubbs Hickory bottles and the bags of Tiramisu Cashew nuts.

I got the Stubbs in the cupboard, and nuts in the spare room, after taking out bubble-wrapping, and put it in the box with the others, I aim to hand these to ILC and Ice-skating champion, Scharführeress Julie. She loves to destroy them, Pop, pop! Haha!

Then I got some handwashing done, but only one of the zip-up jumpers, but it’s a start. Got it washed, wrung and hung!

Then of to the Porcelain Throne, but Constipation Konrad ensured there was no action. Despite my best painful efforts! Hunglebrunkdunk!

Washed, and as I was coming out of the room, a sudden weariness and tiredness came over me.

The only thing to do was get sat down in the none-working, tattered, £300, second-hand, uncomfortable rickety recliner, and let nature take its course. Surprisingly, I was asleep within ten minutes, and having afternoon nightmares with it.

Gruumblesodditluck! I rose up and decided to get the black bags sorted ready for the morning, and by gum, the sun came out, so late in the day as well, bootiful it certainly was, though.

I amassed about eight or nine small bags for the skip. It was too late to take them to the chute now, the noise of the falling bags on there way down, they would disturb my fellow residents and neighbours. Not that it mattered to someone above who was tapping and clunking away, merrily doing something or other.

As I was going to get my head down and try again for sleep, I had to shoot off to the Porcelain Throne again. I half-expected another failed evacuation; and got the crossword book out. After a few minutes, the movement began! All of its own accord and under the guidance of the innards, it ground its way painfully out. I thought it would was never going to end… and when it did with a thud, more than a splash, the relief was so very welcome!

Aha, back into the land of Nod!