Inchcock Today: Thursday 12th May 2022: Diary with Ode

MORNING THOUGHTS

‘Tis not just the ending of civility and decency…
Nor the gallantry, gentleness and long gone chivalry,
That annoys and really seems to get to me,
Why bother, you said; you’ll soon be just history…

Good question! My reading of mankind’s history…
To me, human actions past and now… are a mystery!
Not that I believe all I read, certainly!
Nothing in the annuls is a certainty!

Human tellurians all lie and cheat to gain a better destiny…
Mostly to gain power, be the top dog, with greed for money,
Wanting to put nowt into the pie…but enjoying the honey,
Smiling at the opportunity for profit via anything phoney!

They’ll pretend to be doing their helpful duty,
But we know that it’s all on the QT…
But knowing we also fail in our duty…
Some even think that life is game and cutsie!

No rent to pay, they steal from their old Auntie,
The wine and dine while she has chip buttie…
The gals go the lads and the lads for tottie…
I think I’m losing the point of this dittie?

You do that when you’ve got Doreen Dementia, a pity…
Yet still, I try to create summat funny and witty…
Well, not often, but I still have the edacity…
If even a swell, the blooming audacity!

Recalling what I going to write is beyond doability!
My memory pad notes show indecipherability…
My nerve ends sends the brain messages… insufficiently,
They get orders back and jerk, jump obediently…

The right leg and arm flail, I may fall, it’s all a farcicality,
Gone on for ages now, so I have a familiarity…
It all affects my confidence and fatiguability…
The Doctors say any treatment is beyond feasibility!

Then there are other ailments, mental and rheumaticky,
They can be as risky, painful and tricky…
Like the fungal lesion bleeding on my dickie!
But, I must not moan and be nitpicky…
I just hope you find this ode a little bit witty!

Thursday 12th May 2022

Nocturnally, I shared the night with Colin Cramps again. His favourite targets were the right leg, left hand, right shoulder and side of the neck.

I lay a while, wondering if I could get back to sleep… but the need for a wee-wee arose, and I disentangled by my mastodonic-sized, wobbly epigastrium and torso’d body from the recliner.

As I was doing the balance exercises, I plopped backwards and ended up in the recliner again. I instantly felt the warm wet sensation from Little Inchies Fungal Lesions! Oh, Clump!

Grabbed metal Mickey and off to the wet room. Bit of a mess made of things, and the pain was pretty bad; cleaning things up and medicating them. On the bright side, (there always is one, you just have to find it, Hehe!). However, Harold’s Haemorrhoids were not bleeding from the fall. Had a wee-wee.

I washed and went to the kitchenette to make a tea brew but forgot to take it with me to the computer, which I found later. Tsk!

I booted the machine up and thought I’d try to get the photos on from yesterday. And after setting up today’s template, I tried my luck. At first, there was no usual response from the SD reader or computer. I spent a while swapping and moving the card in hope… then remembered the mug of Glengettie I’d left in the kitchen. Made another mugful.

Back to the computer, but the tea still did not get drunk. To my surprise, the card was recognised. So I got them in ASAP before the computer changed its mind. 

I was nervously on tenterhooks all the time, trying to rush but not dislodge the card and get each photo onto CorelDraw to touch up. (I don’t so much of that nowadays, you know, touching up. Hehehe! This on the right is a photo of the Spirit vinegar delivered yesterday.

Sphygmomanometerisationing results in Blood Pressure. SYS 149. DIA 72, and the pulse was at 79bpm. Which looked fair enough to me.

The Chinese (Hong Kong) is made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer, gave as good a reading as ever, at 34.8°c, another bit of good fortune there!

Later on last night, I had to get up from the recliner, rather grumpily (Yes, me grumpy, hard to believe, I know!) to get some more Phorpain gel to rub in the cramp ridden hands and legs.

I was glad that I did now. The ever later sunset was bootiful! What a hue!

Young Richard, the carer, arrived. He didn’t look too good. So I plied him with some of his favourite goodies. In a rush to get home, and I can’t blame him. Not sure if he’s due tomorrow or not. I think so.

A picture here from yesterday; I think so, anyway.

My favourite puffer clouds were out on display. I couldn’t see any figures or faces in them like we did yesterday, mind you.

An hour or two of doing the Ode for yesterday’s blog, the gurgling from within advised me to make my way to the Porcelain Throne. Which I did! I reckon the Trotsky Terence is about to take control in the rear-end evacuation department.

Pressed on with the blogging again, it’s taking all my time, but I like it! As Dick Emery used to say.

After the rain stopped, I nipped out on the balcony to take a photo of the end of the Chestnut Way car parking antics. The roadway on the corner at the end of the tower block was in a state! Mud had torrented down from Woodthorpe Grange Park and made a right mess for the poor old drivers to get through to get to their cars. Although the Red-Van-Man was okay, being parked on the yellow no parking chevrons, as usual.

.The right hand did a little finger manipulating on its own accord again this morning.

I go so far with the blog and am in a quandary about getting the ablutions done. I’ll explain; I think the Wilko order is due today. Deana might come with a Council lady with the spare key. So, if I go into the wet room, I’ll not hear the door chime. Even if I did, would I get to the door in time? I suppose this means I’ll have to stay dirty? Then be forced to stay up late to get the job done, then?

Still, he can’t get a signal to Nottingham to work!

Came good and early. Soon got me sorted. I did drop a beta-blocker… no, a Codeine when taking the medications, but I was lucky enough to spot it on the carpet. She took the waste bag with her on departing. I fang you!

Resigned to no internet availability from Fries again.

Got a nosh sorted out. Fishcakes with peas in them, potato lumps. Two mini cakes and a horrible lemon cheesecake. Taste: 6.5/10.

Went to do the washing up and tool this snap from the kitchen window. It looks like a microscope view of some bacteria. Hehe! Not one of my better efforts.

I phoned Jenny and Jillie for a natter about nothing. For once, Sweet Morpheus let me join him in slumber a little sooner than usual tonight. And only a few waking ups!

Inchcocks Local News Snippets – Issue 44⅘ths

Mud Gorning

I’d just like to explain to you what happened. I thought I’d try it in odes, but after writing the poem below and reading it, that was maybe not such a good idea. So, I’ll tell yers, abarght wot happened:

Ocado had no ~Heinz burgers in stock again, so I ordered some frozen ones from Iceland to try. Which I did and got them cooked for the suggested length of time. And them to some baked beans in the bowl…

Not one of my des photographicalisations, I grant you. On top of the beans are the two ‘NoBull’ veggieburgers. They didn’t taste anywhere as lovely as the Heinz ones, but beggars can’t be choosers. I git into them and dipped the sourdough bread in the baked seasoned beans; I thought all was very passable… An odd choice of words, considering what was to follow…

This morning, I stirred around 04:00hrs, and a sort of gurgling from my innards caught my attention. No sooner had I got to my feet to catch my balance than it became clear that I needed to make way to the wet room and Porcelain Throne as a matter of some urgency. Which I did.

The evacuated torpedo was a little softer, although a lot larger than yesterday’s, but still not messy… painful, yes! Things needed a little cleaning up, and I used the Germolene on my rear end.

Back out and to the kitchen, tittivated around the kitchenette sink area, and made a brew of Thompson Punjana tea. I went back to the front room and got the computer on… And needed to hasten back to the Porcelain Throne again. ♫It’s not unusual to pass twice ♫ for me. I was surprised when I got down on the seat; the speed and splattering sound as the mish-mash landed. A lot of cleaning up was needed this time. Washed and back to the computer.

An hour later, session three was taken. Very watery, stinky and a lot of it. Where was it coming from? Why?

Another hour and trip number four was then needed. This time, embarrassment and shame… As I was whipping down the trousers, things started of their own accord and all (nearly) liquid! What a mess!!!

The morning carer arrived, and I hoped she could smell nothing; she didn’t say owt anyway, bless her. As she left, call number five started; I was not hesitating at all, and stubbed my toe, then hit my shoulder on the door to the wet room in my haste going in. I barely made it in time. At least there was not so much of it by now; there can’t be anything left there?

An hour or so later, I found there was something left in there, all liquid. There’s something oddly disturbing about sitting there expecting a torpedo, and all one can hear is liquid shooting into the water.

Summoning number six had a bit of body, and there was much less evacuated. Also, some of the real stuff (brown… well, no, more khaki, really, trickled out – so new PPs were used again. More cleaning and medicating, and back to the computer.

Number seven was short but not sweet! The splattering of some mud had to be cleaned up, and Germolening of the poor painful piles!

The last one, number eight (an hour ago), was noisy and back to the liquid format?  Since then, no signs of the Throne being needed, but the wee-weeing has gone crazy suddenly?

Sorry, I just needed to tell someone.

ODE TO THE DAY

To listen to the radio, I need a headphone…
Can’t hear anyone when they speak on the phone,
I’m passing wind, sounds like a trombone?
The innards are churning like it was a battle zone…
Then came my first visit to the Porcelain Throne…

It was reluctant, the torpedo as hard as a stone!
Seven hours later, I need a medical arbiter…
Eight more visits, nine in total, stomach still aflutter!
The last two evacuated more as water…
My bum is sore, daren’t eat… I’ve felt a lot better…
It brewing inside again; will it ever settle?
So, should I snuff it and die, lackaday!

Remember veggie-burgers, and stay away…
Resist eating them; I ate two NoBull ones yesterday…
I shan’t be eating anymore anyway…
Pain and queasy feelings of dismay,
I may get over it, I dare say, someway…
But I do feel grotty and giddy,
Now there are bouts of going dizzy…
I’ll do my best to press on anyway,
I’ve the door wide open for a quick getaway…
Crap-it, I need another one, instantly…

Was that the ninth or tenth? I flowed cruelly…
Far less this time, or am I getting delusory?
Or should word have been delusionally?
I feel hungry but dare not try owt gastronomically!
More food, make affects the innards to react harmfully?
Making me rush to the Throne more frantically?
I feel lethargic; the knees feel like jelly?
Surely the shits like these will be temporary?

I said this ten craps ago,
What to do? I don’t know…
I’m bent forward, really low,
Must look like Quasimodo?
I speak, it sounds like Esperanto?
Even my thoughts are akimbo…
Is it safe to eat dry bread or sourdough?

The Trotskies seem like they’ve lasted for an eternity?
They could drive me back to drinking whisky…
Oh, better not, with the stomach so empty…
I’m in pain, and dizzy, aching… no, really!
Each evacuation today has shown consistency…
I pray the next one will not show urgency…
Or I’ll have to make a long-distance delivery – Hehehe!

ON WITH THE LOCAL NEWS SNIPPETS!

Treating it as a hate crime? Why? Yes, it is a hate crime, but why draw attention to it? Unless the scumbags can be prosecuted to a greater degree for hate crimes than any other, I’m all for it!

Another hate crime? What’s going on? I hope the poor devils coming to the UK, running from Putin’s bullies, don’t get such a welcome!

I assume from the facts as I read last week that Nottingham has more students pro-rater than any other City. Indeed, that has been taken into consideration… or has it?

Same comment as above?

So, virtually attempting to murder police officers, endangering members of the public, and he gets 12 months in prison? Grrr! The namby-pamby legal system is no deterrent at all. He’ll likely still get his drugs and booze sneaked in by his friends…

I wonder if Russia can offer them any jobs?

That should be knife found, another cock-up!

I am not complaining about Van Der Merwe getting a decent sentence, but so should Barrass! Four years and eight months. I concur with this sharp sentence. But why do attempted murderers and the Barrass above get one year for trying to kill police officers and putting the lives of the innocent at risk? Not to mention his drug offences, stabbing, firearms and woman battering qualities?

Price must be laughing his head off! 18 Months of Community order? What’s that, then? 80hrs of unpaid work?

A bit embarrassing that!

Parole Board members… don’t forget to give him full remission!

Sad.

If it’s true, fair enough!

Well done to the private group who caught him!

Angeringly sad.

Bit of decent speedy job done there by the police!

Keeping my determination not to win!

LATE EXTRA!

Trust is something we do all the time without thinking. Doctors (Harold Shipman), Nurses (Beverley Allitt), and policemen (Wayne Couzens) are professionals that we rely on, trust! We can guarantee that the Parole Board will release convicted murderers to kill again! The facts are, we can never know for sure…

Ending on a personal note…

I’ve found the legend for the local postcode crime map.

Pink: Theft from a person
Dark Pink: Shoplifting
Dark Grey: Vehicle Crime
Light Grey: Violence & Sexual Offence
Light Green: Other crime
Dark Green: Drugs
Mid Blue: Antisocial
Light Blue: Bicycle theft
Orange: Burglary
Mustard: Possession of a weapon
Teal: Public order
Greeny-Blue: Public order.

Bearing in mind along with the Cataracts, Glaucoma, and Saccades, I also have achromatopsia (colour blindness), my choice of colours may not be of much help. Tsk!

A lot less crime in my area this time. But I know that the youths breaking into my flat did not make it onto the map? How many others are missing?

Inchcock Today: Rescued Photographs and Diary

RESCUED PHOTOGRAPHICALISATIONS

Ode to the last few days… It’s been a struggle!

Worra job, fighting the SD card reader, t’was pathetic!
Four days of failing, it was terribly acrostic…
Three or six times a day, I tried and was feeling threnetic,
The neighbour was noisy; I resisted any rhetoric,
Cause I could have hit him with my mashie-niblick!
But at least his noise today is only sporadic.

I know that I’m uneducated, got dementia, and am thick…
But repeated failings to get the piccies on… I felt sick…
Got some of them on today, and then I felt fantastic…
But once out of five days? Proves I’m no clever dick…
But my moods are temporary, changing, erratic…
I can be depressed, then minutes later, charismatic?

Sometimes, well, rarely, I can believe I’m being realistic…
But then consider myself unreliable and eccentric…
Other times concentration can be enjoyed, therapeutic…
But it’s only me being toying with hopes, being simplistic.
Hopes for improvement in mental health and lethargic,
Ever new problems with neurotransmitters and neuralgic.

I don’t expect that life’s ailments or mental logic,
A problem is I’m my own worst critic,
To expect to get back to normal is unrealistic…
I anticipate daily pains and struggles… am I masochistic?
That’s not the word I mean; I do feel a dick…
I somehow cope well with pain that’s chronic?

But not with Peripheral Neuropathy, or owt anapeiratic,
I manage with being deaf and arthritic,
Not Doreen Dementia, who denies anything copacetic…
I try not to get depressed or apathetic,
I can often laugh it off, then I find it all too dramatic,
I cannot cope; I find it all too frantic!

Having got rid of the depressive rot, onward…

Not sure what day this blood test was done, but I’ll hazard a guess on Saturday. To think, a couple of days earlier, the SYS was 208! Noe down to the second-lowest ever! Hehe! I’m not complaining, mind you.

And the body temperature, well, another fantastic result. Almost spot on the target figure (NHS) of 35°c!

I can remember taking this temperature, although not the day – because I dropped the thermometer, bent down to retrieve it, and clouted my head against the corner of the chair. And knocked the camera off of the table, and it would not work for a day or so, Tsk!

This I recognise quickly enough, along with the error I made doing it…

I’d made the nosh for Josie, as usual on a Sunday. Got it just right tastewise, and delivered it to her door at the agreed time of midday, feeling rather smug, with her treats for the weekend on the tray. Josie said nothing out of the usual. But I did an odd look from the gal… had I done something wrong? Mmm!

When I got back to my flat to start my dinner, it came to me… It was Saturday! Not Sunday! I felt such a berk!

I got my fodder served up. Vegetable pastie. Green and black grapes, garden peas, baked potatoes, lemon yoghourt. It was lovely. I granted the meal a taste-Rating of 8/10.

I’ve no idea why I took the picture whatsoever? I think it was on Saturday that I was having problems with the computer, other than the usual regular temper and sanity-testing card reader.

This night (Saturday maybe), the sky seemed a smidge misty with it during the sunsetting process.

I stayed up late to catch it and took these two relatively poor photographicalisations from the kitchen windows.

Saturday night, I think, possibly, mayhaps, if not, then Sunday…

I had a bad bleed from Little Inchies Fungal lesion.

Sunday, I think these results are from. And a fine set of figures they were. Sys 144, DIA 54 (A little low, maybe, but no worries about this), the pulse showed 83.

Well, blow me down, another good reading from my Chinese (Hong Kong) made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer. Dang, close to perfect for the third day!

Ah, my beloved puffer clouds were up in the sky for me to picture them. I recall taking these pictures and suddenly needing the Porcelain Throne, so off I trotted without any delay…

I was sitting on that plastic seat in there for over 25 minutes! I also took a Codeine afterwards to ease the sore bum from the concrete torpedo; I’d just grindingly released with a Clonk of a noise when it landed in the bowl! Constipation Conrad had won the competition against his competitor Trotsky Terence by several lengths. Still, I got a few clues answered in the crossword book.

Another sort of cloudy, hazy sunset that night. Of course, I have no idea what night it was, Sunday or Monday, I imagine.

Buttered tatties, tomatoes, fish fingers, fishcakes with mushy peas inside, and battered fish fingers, Birds Eye as well, and they were crap tasting! Some grapes, and I see the milk roll slices, which was excellent cause I could mask the cardboard taste of the Birds Eys battered fish fingers a little by the bread. Eurgh! The potatoes were undercooked, but they were cooked bu a grand chap (Me!) Hahaha! Flavour: 5/10.

Tuesday’s nosh, this was more like it. There are tons of garden peas, tomatoes, tattie chunks, yellow and red tomatoes, and two sizeable battered fish portions. This fish in batter tasted a lot better than the last Birds Eye ones.

Unfortunately, the rest of the meal was a disappointment, well, crap again, actually! The bananas had gone oversweet with age, the potatoes tasteless, and the peas were bitter and sour. The tomatoes were fair enough. Flavour: 5.5/10.

Wednesday: The Iceland order arrived. I was unsure what to expect after they sent me the chinks that had gone green last week. The driver took the bags through to the kitchenette for me and got his choice of cans in thanks. Three items were not available, and two substitutions, but at least they had better dates on them this week. I got the bags unloaded, doing the freezer and fridge items first.

Tried some of their veggieburgers and pies this time. Frozen, of course, and had a job to get them into the fridge and freezer. The substituted tomatoes were Italian ones, So maybe a disappointment. We’ll see. They usually are but compared to last week’s Algerian ones…

The substituted Richmond sausages, Carer Richard, can have in the morning.

Well, yet another fine set of results from the Health Checks! Sys 133, Dia 70, Pulse 69 (A smidge low again), Then I got the thermometer out.

Brilliant! Four days now since the 248 SYS reading, Yee-Haa! Anyone’s guess is how long these promising results will go on for.

Gong to get some nosh on now. Hopefully, I can make something worthwhile and tasty this time.

Got the chips in the oven. And noted the popularity of the Chestnut Way end car park – And no red-van-man is on sight. Unless he’s parked elsewhere than his favourite spot on the yellow no parking chevrons?

The evening Carer arrived, Valerie (Nibbles). Sorted the medications and took the bag to the chute on her way out.

Got the burnt chips based nosh finished and served up. Do you know, they tasted super-good and so tasty! At last, a decent rated meal. A burger on a cob, tomatoes, and garden peas. For afters, a mini strawberry cheesecake and a banana. Taste Rating: 9/10!

The Amazon ordered slippers arrived a little late on. Thanked the driver and offered his choice of canned refreshments.

I didn’t open the bag yet, I’ll do that in the morning, but I could tell I was going to be disappointed by the shape of the package. It felt more like a giant teddy bear inside than footwear. Squashed up and no doubt well-misshapen. Hey-Ho!

I was deprived of getting to sleep again, can’t blame the Thought-Storms this time – Thoughts of all kinds and types were absent! I was not depressed, just in a passive, what-the-heck mood. Although hours later, after failing to nod off, the darned Thought-Storms did kick off. The long done and gone mistakes I’d made flourished about in my head, seemingly in amazing chronological order? Around 02:20hrs, I put the TV on, a desperate measure… but it seemed to work… Until I sprang awake at 04:00hrs!

The Nottingham Lad’s True Tales of Woe

Inchcock & Alto-Ego Morning Spat

A cunning, underhand win for Alto!

I’d had a dream-ridden, ever-waking up, nodding off, back to kip, more nightmares, waking up… a terrible night. I even started to feel sorry for him, then realised it was me! As I reluctantly got my head together, I expected the horrendous Thought-Storms would arrive. But no! Alto-Ego Inchie was on at me like a shot…

Boy, were we both in a niggly mood!

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

“Do you know that you were talking and farting in yer sleep last night?… Mind you, they both made about the same sounds and sense… Hehehe!

“Oh, sod-off Alto, I’m not up to coping with your claptrap yet…”

“Who the $%&+💣 are you talking to? Wot the hecks up wiv yer?”

“Ah, Mr Know-all Alto, needs to ask me what’s up – You’re up and rattling around in my brain, that’s bad enuf! And before I can work out what day and time it is, your there, gobbing away at me! Work it out, Pugface. I had a horrible night’s non-sleep; the Peripheral Peters neurotransmitters in the legs ain’t working…!

“Ah, Tithead! La-la-la Lalala! You ain’t moved yet, so how does yer know, eh, clever clogs?” ♫  ♫

“If I could, I would likely kill you! You are so cruel and cutting – but pig-ignorant with it…”

“That’s cause I am you, yer pillock! You’ve not worked out who and what I am yet, have yer?”

“As I was saying, before being so crudely and rudely interrupted… I can generally sense when the neurotransmitters are failing or about to fail in the legs and feet…”.

“Load of tosh, I don’t feel owt wrong…”

“No, Dumbo, that’s cause you don’t have a body, innit!

“Well, it’s not my fault I ain’t human or that they assigned me to be your Alto-Ego, is it? It ain’t easy yer know, gerrin’ posted to a turd like you – we both have to make the best of it…”

Hang on, hang on, hang on… What are you up to? Where do all this ‘we’ come from? I never heard you use that word before?

“Ulterior motive in there, dogbreath, it’ll do no harm to tell yer worrits all abarght, I suppose. Is yer ready; it’s a bit complicated for an idiot wiv dementia to grasp. I’ll pretend I’m talking to a ten-year-old and choose easy words for yer…”

“This should be good, coming from you, Alto…”

I am aware the yer Doctor is not interested, and also you have the Vascular Dementia, Cataracts, Glaucoma and Saccades in yer eyes… are you following”?

“Yer…”

Well, despite instructions from the Alto-Ego Control Room to make yer life as much hell as possible, I’ve got to be fond of your deafness, Whoopsiedangleploppings, tumbles and falls. stupidity, ailments, failings and countless other inabilities…”

“You’re enjoying this ain’t yer?”

“Not half!”

“Carry on then…”

“Because you give me a laugh and entertain me when I’m just in observation mode. When yer scratched yer head and lost a pint or two pints of blood as you cut the head of the boil-off with yer nail, yesterday… That did it for me; I laughed my head off, which is not easy when you don’t have one!

“Come on, tell me…”

“Where was I?”

“I’m the one wiv dementia! Tsk! You were at; ‘I laughed my head off, which is not easy when you don’t have one!'”

“Oh, yes… be patient…” I decided to help you get some help from the medical profession. Mental, Diabetes, Fungal Lesion, Dentist, Audio clinic and Cardiology. Maybe, just to cover all of your ailments, Gastroenterology, Haematology, DVT, Orthopaedics, Neurology, Nephrology, Oncology, Ophthalmology, Otolaryngology, Rheumatology, Orthopaedics, Urology, Rheumatology, and Urology. To be on the safe side, I’ll add a psychotherapist, psychologist, psychoanalyst, psychopathologist, disorders analyst, guidance counsellor and some men in white coats…

“Are you teasing me or what, having a laugh?

“Oh, no, let me finish before you make a judgement. All will become clear of my genuine good intentions…

Well, gerron wiv it, then!”

I was aware that if I had a go at you about things today, you’d be bound to put it in a blog, see? Thus the billions of medical persons worldwide can potentially feel sorry for you and come forth with free assistance, help and advice for you?

Is that it? You dipstick!

Well, that’s not very nice, is it?

Are you aware of how many of the billions are out there that read my blog? Eh?

Erm, I’ll check my memory log; hang on…

“Whistles”…

“Humming now”…

‘Sorry to keep yer Dumbo… I just calculated some of the figures. Well, I do feel like a fool now, Hahaha! Your average day viewers total for last week was 5…, and likes were 1.5″…

Exactly! How many of them might be doctors in Gastroenterology, Haematology, DVT, Neurology, Nephrology, Oncology, Ophthalmology, Orthopaedics. Otolaryngology, Rheumatology, and Urology. Ophthalmology, Orthopaedics, Rheumatology, and Urology. Thanks for nothing, turd-breath! Let alone psychotherapists, psychopathologists, psychologists, psychoanalysts, or speak and read English, I imagine, would be nil?

Ah, but now you begin to feel a little depressed after having got your hopes up… yes?

Too true, Alto; I’m down in the dumps. I should never have believed you wanted to help me in the first place… I am a pratt of the highest order, and you should be ashamed of yourself for being so abusive, disparaging, tormenting ridiculing, soul and hope destroying antics. I feel guilty and self-loathing for being misled…

Hahaha! I know, it was a masterstroke, wonnit? The way I strung you along, I’m chuffed to bits! And it’ll get me some bonus points from the Alto Management; it’ll likely make my cunning subterfuge the highest placed for the day of all the Altos! Hehehe!

ALTO-INCHIE

INCHCOCK

Oh, Rollock’s! Now, I’ve sunk down into a full-blown, damned Dracula Depression!

I know, Har-har! Gullible Inchcock sinks into despair! Made my day! Hahaha!

Part of Inchcocks Make Them Laugh Series

Inchies Tips & Advice for Whippersnappers, Ablutionalisationings & Medicalisationings

ADVICE & TIPS ON FUTURE AILMENTS TO COME

I’ve given myself a challenge here… Where do I start?
Well, I don’t want to sound like a worrywart…
But you may like to put this guide on a wall chart,
Get prepared, to wee-wee, bleed a lot, and fart?
To the wet room, with ablutionalisationing, we’ll start…

Well, getting your clothes on and off, will be a work of art!
The socks removal will hurt in every leg part!
Pants and PPs, shirt and hat off, you’ll be knackered,
By the time you start teeth cleaning, paddy-whacked!
Then the toothpaste to extract…
Peripheral Pete causing shaking hands, distances inexact…
Toothpaste on your chin belly and feet… it’s a fact!

Nasal clearing, avoid catching the new pustulation…
And shaking hands, need careful manipulation…
Stabbing up the nose can cause a concussion!
Due to the dying nerve-ends neurotransmission!

Then the eyedrops, they miss each time, despite my best attention,
Evolve drips anywhere but the eyes; to the mouth, via obambulation,
Oh, while I think about it, you’ll have to have a fundoplication!
Shaving’s the next job, which always causes apprehension!

You’ll cut yourself several times, no need for overreaction…
The Brut aftershave serves as a blood stopper medication!
Mind you, it stings, you’ll swear in protestation,
It’s just another necessary daily ritualisation!

Then comes, the dangerous part, of showering!
It’s no good fearing, and cowering…
It must be done, like an everyday thing!
Dizzy Dennis arrives, you stop the soaping…
Then drop the loofah, bend in retrieving…
Hit your bonce on the powerbox, your heads now reeling…
Loss of balance sometimes, a usual old folk feeling…
Then you often find yourself falling…
But getting back up is more appalling and galling,
Usually, you’ll drop things again…
But, to avoid any more pain,
You’ll kick it away, then you may start talcing?
Till you stub your toe, then start cursing!
But there are more things yet, that will be paining!

No mirrors in the wet room, I mention tactfully,
For fear, you’ll see your flabby midriff’s rotundity,
Which will bring on the depression, for a certainty,
You’ll find spotting your reflection, rather dismally,

Little Inchies Fungal Lesion will need ointmenting,
Especially if it’s been leaking and bleeding!
The certainty of agony needs acknowledging…
Some think this procedure, is bestiality, brutality…
I can tell yer, I don’t think about affectionately!
And I don’t tackle the job exactly bravely!

Arthur Itis knees to be Phorpained, to lessen rheumatically,
An easy enough task, although the limbs can get greasy…
It’s the Phorpain Gel, the box says it’s liable to flammability?
Still, a good massage and rubbing in seems to work easily.

MedPhorpain

The Germoloiding of Harold’s Haemorrhoids is a pleasure,
Always effective, instant relief, this ointment is a treasure!
But you can’t buy it when on a Special Offer…
Full price, cause the makers, want to fill their coffer…

You’ll be able to get a cream on the NHS, Anusol, but it’s crap,
And you’ll need to wear sunglasses and a hat…
Use walking aids, hearing aids, spectacles, blind as a bat!
Cataracts, Glaucoma and Saccades will be begat!
I’m getting mixed up here, where was I at?

I named Accifauxpas, to such incidents as the above,
Having digits etc. bruised, and cut, you may not approve,
But incident rates will never improve…
As you grow decrepit and old, it’s the truth!
There is no way to make things accident-proof…

I named Accifauxpas, to such incidents as the above,
Having digits etc. bruised, and cut, you may not approve,
But incident rates will never improve…
There is no to make things foolproof…

But there is a way, to ease them and help make them better!
You don’t believe me? I can hear you mutter!
But clean the wound, Give it a Germolene smother…
As antiseptics go, there is none betterer…
It soothes and cools wounds with no palaver…
Keep a tube in the first aid box, it’s a good manoeuvre!

You’ll lose any skill you had at handcraftsmanship,
Sewing, darning, woodwork, sculpting, or need a replacement hip,
A new knee or two, a mechanical ticker, ready for the crypt…
So when things start to fail and collapse, don’t lose your grip!.

Don’t look back at the days when you were nonhandicapped!
Or even when you could risk being back slapped,
Or when you were capable of being able and schlepped…
It’s important for you to be able to adapt!

You’ll only compare things, with now and then,
Your mental and bodily decline, remembering girls like Gretchen?
Your confidence, comparative memories, do not enrichen!
In fact, they have been known to bring on depression!
Recalling the romances, victories, how many were they, ten?
Your first fumbling grope – can you remember who and when?
The Auntie who always bathed you… you were happy then!
But such days will never return again…
Have you still got love letters, written with a pen?
The name of your very first kitten?
Or the first dog by which you were bitten?

When your life was considered to be sublime, Utopian…
Some details will be embedded in your brain, unforgotten…
But many of them inspire things you think were rotten!
Actions and decisions that were taken by you; were you forgiven?
Or like me; having Thought Storms of guilt and derision?

There is an ailment that can free you from making many a decision…
Vascular Dementia Doreen, she’s good at memory suppression,
Also, she jumbles up numbers and dates, like a statistician…
Or mayhaps, more like a politician?
That reminds me, the Dentist and Optician…
Appointments to cancel, that’ll cause derision,
Is it a pediatrican or maybe a metaphysician?
I might be better off with a dietician or magician?

Cataract Surgery is my latest thing worrying,
Two Phacoemulsification operations or something,
Then Glaucoma operations in both eyes…
Then there’s Saccades procedure right eye,
But worrying about it is not very wise
Seeing an assessor on 3rd May waited five months, irking,

So by the time you Whippersnappers get to my age,
The NHS will be a memory, but you should manage…
Unless there is a world war again, violence is savage!
The private owners of the hospital will add a surcharge…
£200 for a bandage, £30 to be unbandaged, if you haemorrhage…
£50 a pint lost, and for cleaning up there’ll be an added charge…
An entrance fee if you have to use the triage…
Visitors will be charged, £35 an hour on average…
£40 a cup of tea, £60 for coffee, £40, for other beverages…
Medications, an Aspirin at £35, according to dosage…
Visitors can have a variable-priced massage…
Grizelda £45, William too, either-way Brenda, £200 with frottage!

I think I got carried away there, sorry!

Inchcock Today: Diary A fresh of breath air!

Inchcock Today

Liaringly A Super Day

Tuesday 22nd February 2020

Well, yer see… it’s not easy… is it? Life

03:20hrs: Up for a wee, knocked over my cold cup of tea, said summat like, “Well blow me”, and got the computer on. Concentrated on getting yesterday’s blog finished off.

Which, amazingly, without any interruptions, apart from needing a few leaks, I’d got done by 05:00hrs. And decided to get the ablutions sorted out before any Carer came calling.

05;10hrs: A bit of clunking from the flat above. I made my way to get the clothes and off into the wet room.

Off, full of vim, and whistling, to do the ablutioning,
A mock-contentment was absolutely blossoming!
Shaving with only the one little cutting…
Fair enough, Cartilage Kathy was twinging…
Botherless dressing and nappy changing…
I felt as if I was only fortysomething!
Doing fine no Whoopsies or dingdonging,
Nowt that was alarming or discouraging,
Did all, mostly painless medicationalisationing!

Freshened up, for the after-shave I was foraging…
The sink suddenly made a lot of guggling?
I checked to make sure I’d not left the sink plug in,
Smug-Mode Adopted, no head or shoulder-banging,
There really was no depression or self-admonishing,
As the after-shave, on my face, I was sploshing…
Peripheral Neuropathy Pete started prancing…
The right leg Schuhplattler flailing dancing…
I ended up with a thud, bottom on the hard floor,

My reaction was whimperingly poor,
The ankle, knee and bum were sore!
Getting back up took time, for sure,
Phorpained the knee and bum some more…
It might ease the pain, but it’s not a cure…
I can imagine myself limping forever!

I limped with two sticks (Literally) back to the kitchen, kettle on, went for a wee-wee, washed the dandies, took a Codeine, made a brew of Thompsons Punjana. Had yet another wee-wee and got back on the computer.

Spent hours and hours on creating the Snippets blog.

I went out to take a photo of the end car park. But got distracted… I do that a lot, you know. Bits of whatever it was were falling on my head. They were coming from the crumbling ceiling inside the balcony! A bit worrying that was! Cracking plaster and paint, and holes appearing above the sliding doorway! I must inform ILC (Independent Living Coordinator), Oberstgrüppenfuhreress, Warden and Primo Ballerina, Warden Deana. See if she can have a decker and what she thinks about it.

It’s a little reminiscent of living in the old house in Carrington. Although that was built in 1909, these flats were modernised in 2019. They both had about the same amount of cracks in the roof. Hahaha!

Many hours were spent on blogging. It’s not easy at all since the eyes started going, and it doesn’t help with Peripheral Neuropathy, Pete and Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley giving me daily problems. Humph!

The wee-weeing frequency had died down. I got the potatoes in the slow-cooker and tended to the medical checks belatedly.

Blood Pressure was down nicely, but:

  I was wrapping the tubing around the casing to replace the sphygmomanometer, and Peripheral Neuropathy Pete gave me a little jerking session. The BP machine ended up hitting the radiator and under the desk on the floor. I got the precious picker-upperer and retrieved it. I was going to try it then, but the need for another wee-wee arrived, and thanks to Vascular Dementia Doreen, I forgot all about it. Now I hope it still works on the following readings.

A more significant concern then – the body temperature was showing as 33.7°c! Well below the minimum of 35. I tried the ear thermometer, which showed up as ‘Low’. Is it me doing it wrong, machine kaputt? I just don’t know!

Finally, I completed the ‘Local Snippets’ blog and got it sent off. Facebooked, WP comments and on the WordPress Reader.

Cleaner Esther did it again… she came in without ringing the chime, and naturally, I did not hear her until she started giving some stick for being overweight. She asked if I had any laundry, boy did I! Then he moaned about me using Meridian, who, after the last disgusting state of my returned washing, crammed into the bag, creased… I would like to stop paying for and using. It shows great disrespect, I think.

Off Esther went to the laundry room, talking all the time as she walked away from me. I’ve not the foggiest idea what she was saying.

Pressed on with the template for this blog in the morning for about an hour. Then I got the meal prepping done.

Esther returned, forever talking and telling me off. She’s such a character; bless her. You’ve got like her, despite her aggressiveness. I found I was using the wrong hoover. I was too fat and should wear the shirts that “You have spilt bleach on!” “Wear them at night only!” So, I did last night. Hehehe! There were many other rollicking, but thank heavens she spat them out while in the other room, and I couldn’t hear what she was saying.

Then, the Carer did the same as Esther and came in without alerting me with the door-chime. I was in the kitchen at the sink straining the garden peas; I think it was Carer Charlie or Kiya. But that’s only a guess. Dementia Doreen, again! She got the medicines sorted in no time.

Not one of my better efforts, for more than one reason. Here they are: I made far too much

① I made far too much. ② The J Sainsbury short-dated garden peas tasted puckingly bad, and most were left untouched. ③ The potatoes were tasteless! ④ The bacon was soggy and too fat! However, the sausages, tomatoes, Sourdough bread, banana (Oh, I remember now, Esther also told me that bananas are too fattening for me to eat – well, she cares… Haha!), and mandarins in orange juice were all good! Overall, my Taste Rating was 5/10. Humph!

The precious, kind Carer Julie called. We had a natter after sorting the prescriptions out. What an Angel ♥. She said hello to Billum and HRH, hoping the tiny leaflets were liked. Who I hope reads this. ♥

As I was sulking and taking the things into the kitchen to be washed, the sunset was beautiful!

I put the tray down and got the camera.

The top shot I took from the door as I reentered the kitchenette.

I opened the window to take this one on the left for the next two. Slightly zoomed in.

So peaceful and serene. I had to force myself to come away… although I did have some encouragement by needing yet another wee-wee. And I’d not been drinking much tea! Bootiful!

I got down in the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, nauseously beige-coloured, not-working, rusty, rickety, difficile, crumb-covered tatty recliner. And pencilled this little ditty on the notepad pages.

Mother Nature’s Sunset

Looking at these sunsets, was it in a dream?
Beauty, peace, nature so pristine!
Sweeter than just a sunbeam…
Even with eyesight, not overly keen…
I wished the view was on a touchscreen…
You’ll never see such warmth on a screen,
Views magnificent, nothing in between…
Mother Nature doeth capture my esteem,
That’s why butter is better than margarine!

I Fank You!

Inchcock’s Odes to Why?

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WHY COVID?

Covid-19 and Sars-CoV-2, why they came, is what I’m thinking?
Government confused findings, need reabsorbing…
Pandemic and HMG hold a party, hobnobbing?
Annoyed me, so this Ode I’m now scribing…
Yet, to their rules, I’ve been acquiescing,
Two years now, since any Doctor interfacing,
Definites, the Government are sidestepping?
I feel like I’m permanently convalescing,
Anti-maskers are not exactly applauding…
Anti-vaccers protests showing no signs of concluding,
Jab or mask-wearing? Some are not deciding…
I follow the guidelines, but it can be confusing,
Doing what you can to protect others is frustrating,
Between the Do’s and the Don’ts, there’s bile offloading,
No give or understanding of others, compassion is subsiding,
Sarcasticness abounds, even where I am residing!

Coronavirus arrives, HMG problems beginning,
Changes meant more hassle, problems teething,
Proletariats, needing hopes strengthening,
Some vague chance of things improving…
New strains, deaths, started the mudslinging…
Ordinary voters started teeth-gnashing,
Anti-vaxxers and maskers began badmouthing,
But some uncaring folks just started shrugging,
Accusing HMG of ignorance and gross mismanaging,
The businesses set out to gain more profit – I’m seething!
Indeed, we should be encouraging, not rubbishing?

Official figures are baffling and misleading,
Dyscalculia makes it difficult in reading…
Have the Governments been Shanghaiing?
In favour of financing, from businesses and banking?
Are their advisors’ advising wrongly and failing?
Does their arriere-pensee to us need rethinking?
How do they stop the money-men from sabotaging?
The bankers, investors from profit-pocketing?
Indeed it’s impossible to stop them interfering and scavenging?

And, whatever’s happened to the political duelling?
No calls from Labour, as Kinnock would have been lambasting?
Lib-Dems are still about, are they? I’m just asking!
I think I worked it out; why is the silence blasting?
They both think, thank heavens, we are not ruling…
All this confusion, entangling… they’ve no idea of detangling,
So give Boris no bother, or at the subsequent voting…
The masses may vote for us, and we win… nonplussing!
The thought of us dealing with things is blood-curdling!
Labour in power, cause enough for frightful caterwauling!
Well, that’s enough of my HMG & Covid caterwauling,
Not such a good Ode, this one, it left me… Tsking!

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WHY AM I SO UNLUCKY?

I’ll start with one event, the heart thing,
That was not unlucky; it did not leave me whining!
This operation saved my life… Else I’d have been missing…
The Hernia, Peripheral Neuropathy and Colin Cramping,
Cancer of the bladder, and stroke, and a lot of bemoaning. Hehe!

Being an unlucky sod can be so time-consuming,
Leaving very little time left for resting and vacuuming,
A Whoopsiedangleplop, maybe the Thought Storms brewing…
A memory loss, missed bus, lost keys or painful burping…
From near-deadly to a tap left running or finger burning,
Ailments, senility and old age means the end of by beep-bopping,
The worst is Vascular Dementia, the brain transitioning…

My diabetes and oedema cause much bother urinating,
Each morning, the feet will be either bloated or very thin,
It’s not so bad since I stopped doing my trampolining,
The tumbling or fallings is constantly threatening…

Neuropathy and Shaking Shoulder Shirley are disquietening!

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I regularly get subconjunctival haemorrhaging,
Saccades and the new eye problems are definitely worrying,
Floaters, cataracts and glaucoma, almost frightening!
Everything taking longer to do, from the ablutioning…
Painful bending to retrieve dropped items can sting!
Oh, and evacuations on the Throne, and Wee-weeing!

I nearly always cut myself shaving,
Sometimes taking many minutes peeing…
Occasionally, taking only seconds at urine freeing!
The Porcelain Throne, often with evacuation misfunctioning.

Porcelain Throne options for me are; water-like spurting…
Which can be over like lighting!
Or resistant, rock-hard, and bloody,
Either or both are constantly hurting and agony!

Cleaning, me or the flat internally, is so burdening,
Seems nowadays to take an eternity, and much groaning,
Hardly any time for my beloved Word Pressing,
My confidence is egringolering…
My hearing is worsening…
Every task’s success is gimping!

The leaking blood through the plaster was bubbling!
But it was not at all troubling…
Cause actually, it made me do some laughing…
Which I found rather refreshing!

Inchcocks’ True Odes to Life Series

November 2021: Local News Snippets

Comments from the Nottingham Proletariats, Photographs, bad grammar and punctuation, and other sundry rubbish!

Starting with the serious stuff. I’ve placed a picture, with the report of the Doctor who is responsible for so many deaths. Hopefully, if anyone is going in for surgery, and recognize the Doctor, can refuse to be treated by him.

Mr X, Nottingham resident (84), suggested that the return of hanging would be more of a deterrent.

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Mr X, Nottingham resident (84), quoted; Most likely a drugs gang killing. See the watch the youth has on? And the tattoos, are they a gang thing or what? Bring back hanging, and they won’t do it again, now will they?

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Mrs Y (82), a sweet-natured local resident, is all for starting a Nottingham Mafia, to control the crime waves that the non-existent police force can’t cope with. Adding; It’s the judges and the legal system I blame as much as the crude scum we’ve let into the country. A well-armed Nottingham Mafia can keep an eye on the rare odd police officer when they see them, and noble the offenders on the spot. Scumbags!

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Wilberforce Hutherswaite (73), a local resident, commented on the rising prices that are getting out of hand. It’s the bloody Tories again! They are the buggers that own or have shares in the rob-dogging, European owned greedy companies, purrin’ the prices up agen! It’s the Chinese who started off the Coronavirus, but yer cun rest assured that the other crooked politicians and shareholders have played a part in it… all designed to put prices and profit up! I towed ’em thurrit’d happen! Farsounds of illegals to feed too!

Still, yer doesn’t like to complain does yer. ‘ave yer gorrany weed on yer to spare, Inchcock?

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Wilhelmina Thunderthighs (77), a retired RMN nurse from Huddersfield originally, a Nottingham Resident since she got out of prison in 1975, offered her views on the Coronavirus situation, with figures spiking again:  “I blame the anti-masker shitheads. Likely unemployed benefit-claiming morons. You know, those with several different fathered ankle-snappers, and on their fifth live-in partner! One living rent-free in Sherwood, I read it in the Evening Post, so it has to be true… claiming child benefit of £690 a week, get their electricity and gas paid for. They’ve just had their Universal Credit reduced to £650 a week, so they will not be happy… But will they wear a facemask? No! Erm… what was the question?

The new Coronavirus variant found in Nottingham is of concern.

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Comment from Ecclisiastclese Edwards (67). That’s the fourth fire this year on the industrial park in Lenton. Obviously, brought Abarght by the illegal immigrants they employ. I don’t blame the incomers, who can blame ’em for gerrin’ away from Lithuania, Poland etc., not me! If any other country would house and feed me if I got away, I’d take it too! Them who are escaping wars who I feel sorry for. Cause, there are bound to be some murderers, paedophiles and terrorists among ’em, that’s to be expected. I reckon some arsonists have sneaked and got underpaid jobs ‘ere?

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Comment from Blanche Bloomerworthy (78), an ex Prison Warden, living in Sherwood, Nottingham. I’ve been watching this happen every day for months. It dawned on this morning, can you eat these ducks? They could be a solution to the food shortages?

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Not a made-up name! All true!

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Unfortunately, Inchcock got his walker-guide wheels stuck in the snow this morning. Over he went, landing in a blubbery mass of flesh onto the wet grass and gravel. He’d like to thank the youth passing by for not stopping to help, and calling  Inchy a f___cking old idiot, as he carried on his way on his Escooter!

I’m losing faith in humanity!

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Part of the ‘Inchcock’s Local News Series’

Maintaining One’s Sanity – Not easy you know!

With Thanks To Madge & Margo for the Memories

SANITY

Did I have it in the first place, though?
I started going loopy about 70 years ago,
Long before I attained the shape of a rhino,
My voice then would have been falsetto,
I ate ice cream, long before they made the Cornetto,
I lived in a terraced house, in the Meadows ghetto,
No hot water, inside loo, no electricity until 1952,
Mother was the pushy one, scared me stiff… a virtuoso,
But the police were after her, run away, she had to go,
In winter, ice on every cracked or broken window,
Twelve years of tripping over the warped lino.

Dad said, we need money; I’ve got some jobs for you!
Two paper rounds, a Saturday job, that’s just a few!
After school, I rush home; here’s what I’d do,
Clean and set the fire, and make Dad some stew,
He could be home six o’clock, or a quarter to two,
No time to play, but I did pray for a TV to view!
Never got one, of course, but one was always due,
Not that I had the time anyway, with the cleaning up to do!

Got a job, two guineas a week, got a flat, although…
I got impetigo, got thrown out, so off I had to go…
Playing solo Ludo… it wasn’t terrific, you know!
But I got into digs, full board… and found myself aglow,
The landladies daughters, things unknown to me they did show!
I was proud and macho, every night, with Madge and or Margo…
Showed me the best ways to keep from feeling low!
Lessons that even today, I’m glad I did undergo,
More later, time to take my medications now – Hoho!

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Part of the Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe In Rhyme series

ODE TO SUNDAY 24th OCTOBER

ODD SNIPPETS OF LITTLE INTEREST

06:15hrs, I woke up, thinking something was weird… eerie,

Not knowing what it was, was annoying me…

Ah, that’s it; I didn’t want a wee-wee,

Well, this is a change, rare, causing infelicity,

I rose and pressed on with my best ability,

I spotted the foot rot on my bloated toes nails; that’s a pity!

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TOOK A BAD PHOTO OF THE VIEW

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MORNING CARER ARRIVED

Two carers came in, without ringing,

Team leader Natalie, and a new gal to me,

Her name was Cherie or Charlie.

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COMPUTERISATIONING

I was doing so well,

But it was stopped by the intervention…

By the dreaded Blue Screen.

What Is The Blue Screen Of Death? BSOD Explained.

Something about losing a memory configuration?

It did not receive my appreciation!

I responded by turning it off and making an absquatulation!

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TO THE KITCHENETTE

Niggled by the problems using Corel,

I got Josies’ meal prepped, then, Oh, hell!

Cutting the vegetables, as I usually do,

Carrots, water chestnuts and others too,

And getting them into Josies’ chilli stew,

Well, what do you think I did do?

Cut my finger, the bleeding didn’t last,

I put on an Elastoplast, but I reminded steadfast!

Got extra sauce made, added to Josies’ repast,

Stayed in the kitchen, so’s not to get sidetracked,

It worked at first, and that’s a fact…

It began to cook, smelling good, and I forecast…

This one might taste better than the last!

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MADE A BREW OF GLENGETTIE TEA

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JOSIES’ LUNCH DONE & DELIVERED!

I delivered it to  Josies’ door on time again, not late!

The gal seemed to like the look of and the smell on the plate,

No chance of her going to abrogate,

Hope she likes it, and it’s adequate!

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BACK TO THE KITCHENETTE

Taking the camera back, the Peripheral Neuropathy…

Shook the arm painfully, it does that  with aperiodicity,

Uncongenialy this time, heartily, with duplexity,

Muggins here dropped the camera; what a pain…

Caught it and droppsied it again!

Resulting in my taking two involuntary two photographs

Amazingly, they were better than when I intended to take them!

Hahaha!

Unfortunately, I took them on my way down to the floor!

I now have a very annoyingly slight bruise on the top of my head,

For only a little while,  blood it did shed,

I swore a smidge, and I had a rest, instead!

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EVENING NOSH MADE & IMBIBED

Cooked, and this is how it looked,

A substituted meal from Sainsbury’s again!

The taste was not too good either; it sucked!

Afterwards, I got stomach pains!

Maybe I’d over-cooked?

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Part of the Nottingham Lads True Tales Of Woe – In Rhyme (Of sorts)