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Inchcock: Friday 5th Aug 22 – Diary & Odes

/ Inchie / 2 Comments

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Inchcock’s Waffling No: 23⅒th
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06:50hrs. What a sleep that was at last. Ready for this… Six-Hours! Grrreat! The ankle ulcer had come up overnight and was tingling & stinging a bit. The right foot and leg were more swollen and colourful as well. So, I took this snapshot. I just can’t understand why the Tate Gallery has not noticed the state of my legs and bought my photos.
After six uninterrupted hours of gorgeous sleep, I was not surprised that the wee-wees started flowing and regularly. Each session was followed by after-micturitional leaking. Bit of a nuisance having to wait so long and make sure any extra squirts or leaks had all finished. Still, that’s a fact of life nowadays.

I went into sphygmomanometerisationing mode and got the Health Checks done.

The BP had gone up a smidgeon, but nothing too risky. God results still.
Barely into the red zone, yet again. I don’t know why it has been so good this past month, but I adopted a well-deserved one. How long can this go on? It seems to have settled so well. Fingers crossed that it continues.
I started to do the layout for this template and got a whiff of my B,O., so I decided that as soon the morning Carer has been, I’ll get the ablutioning done. Seconds later, ♫ Oh. Susana ♫ sounded from the door chime.

Came in and got my medications sorted out. Val’s weekly treat of Strawberries had arrived, and I issued them in thanks to Valerie, and off she went – forgetting for the first time ever to take the waste bags with her. I was rushing her a bit so I could get the ablutioning done, though, so, not her fault.

I went into the wet room to clean up my massively overweight bobby body and assorted knick-knacks. But found that the job of cleaning up the wet room floor I did yesterday, I think it was, was of inferior quality. The floor had bits on it, black, that stuck like glue to the surface. Where they came from puzzled me. (As a lot of things tend to do nowadays, Hehe!)  I just about crippled myself getting down and up again so often, after each time, and found I’d missed some. to blame, mayhaps?
By the time I got around to doing any ablutioning, I was well worn out and had some new aches. Hehe! As I started with the teeth cleaning, I had to double check that the scrubbing brush, bleach, mop, and bucket had not been left in my own way in the shower area. So glad I checked, for the bleach was under the shower, and going in there without any glasses on, I might have avoided an !
At long last, a weary and battered Inchy got on with the job in hand. Teggies have already been done, and I got on with the shaving. And only had two tiny nicks in the process. However, I did manage to break one of the new razors, and not a cheap Bic; Oh no! One of the four-bladed ones! How is it a mystery? I don’t think I could break one if I tried to.
The showering went well, apart from clouting my shoulder against the towel rail and starting Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley off. The lower regions, front and rear, were then medicated. The ear holes were olive-oiled. The eye drops were dropped in; well, most of them ended up on the cheek and then ran down into the moustache, turning it into a temporary brown from grey. Little Inchies fungal lesion is the most painful ailment to treat (As usual). Deodorised, dressed, and off to make a brew of Glengettie tea. Noticed the beautiful puffer clouds in view in the sky again. I do love so to see these up there. I tried a bit of pareidoliaing and found two figures in this photograph on the left.

I got some potatoes out, sorted them and got the good ones in the saucepan on a low heat setting. Then realised I had the fresh chips in the fridge with a short use-by-date that needed consuming. Then the dithering started. Shall I have the potatoes and end up wasting the ready-made chips?
I sort of left any decision in the air. I’m good at that, being indecisive, you know? I went to check on the other dates in the fridge but could only manage to decipher a couple of them. Carer Richard was in such a rush yesterday that he forgot to investigate for me. And of course, I forgot to ask him to. Hey-Ho! The lad was worn-out and tired, bless him. I hope he can get a good rest during his break. and does not get called in. He’s due a bit of good luck, and I hope Sweet Morpheus can supply it for the lad.

Later, I felt the stinging from the ankle ulcer and looked at the ankle and legs again. See what’s what with it. It (the ankle ulcer) now looked so much calmer. And yet it was stinging more than before when it was all swollen and glowing?
Beats me. Then again, most things do nowadays.
Back onto CorelDraw to make another Ode that had come into my distorted mind.

Here it is; sorry!

Waffling Ode Number 19⅑th

Cloud Photo of the Year!

Absolutely bootiful!

The Morrison order for Tuesday; that I started yesterday and gave up on when it needed verification and Code numbers from an outside source to log on was annoying. Well, believe it or not, I got a code to use this morning, by text, from the bank??? I used the number and finished the order that was still on site. Two things worry me…❶ I clicked buy now, and another email, confirmation from Morrison’s, told me I had ordered it for next Sunday, not Tuesday. ❷ Have I been hacked, scammed, fiddled, or not? Worried now!

Pressed on with this Ode, I knew I’d get around to it eventually, but not as late as this. Gone eleven o’clock!

03:00hrs: Decided to get something to eat; the blog will have to wait.

Ah, the mushroom pate is not as good as the Sainsbury one, but very lovely. Fresh ready-prepared oven chips, last of bullet-hard beetroot, and tomatoes. Wholemeal cobs, BBQ dip, and for afters: An orange jelly, with squirty low-fat imitation, pretend cream sprayed all over it. Flavour rating; 6.9/10, the chips (fries) let it down.

Got the pot’s washed, and I settled to watch an episode of Kitchen Nightmares. Fell asleep, and the landline burst forth, waking me crudely! I bungled my way out of the c1968 recliner to get to the phone before it stopped; “Hello?” – “Mr Chambers, Gerald?” “Yes, is that Hristina?” And it was my beautiful, beloved Haematology Nurse. I think she said she would be coming to take the blood sample on Monday. She had a clear voice on the phone and seemed impressed that I recognised her voice. A picture of her came into my mind… that’s why I’m not sure if it was Monday or Tuesday she would be calling. I tend to get excited when she calls me.

I resettled in the c1963 recliner, and I started to watch the TV, but I drifted off into a much-needed sleep… Not for long!
♫ Oh, Susana ♫… Joseph, the evening carer, woke me up. His shaky-right leg was going like the clappers tonight when he sat down. Got the medications sorted and gave him his choice of the thank-you treats. (Woo-Woo, I think?) Saw him off and locked the front door.

Got down in the recliner once again, determined to get some sleep… But No! As I was drifting off, I felt the dreaded wet warm sensation in the PPs (Protection Pants). I was certain that I’d had a leak. So, up yet again, and to the wet room to wash and get new PPs on. , It was worse,
So cleaning up and medicationalisationing was needed.

I noticed the glow from the late sun setting and just had to take a photo of it. A misty, unclear, but mood-prompting shot, so I thought.
The body was tired, the mind ready to be switched off, I got down in the second-hand, £300, c1968, overwhelmingly-sickeningly beige coloured, tatty, uncomfortable, rusty, wobbly-recliner for the umpteenth time.

Up now this Friday, I must have dropped off to sleep, on the insistence of my body & brain, so many times. And every time, someone or thing woke me up. I think this must have confused my already unreliable brain. Cause when I got down in the recliner this time, in search of Sweet Morpheus, it refused to let me drift off! It was hours (and oh, so many wee-wees before I finally got off!

Fed Up? Me? Yes! Hehehe!

Inchcock Diary & Ode to Putin, Tuesday 7th June 2022

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

Tuesday 7th June 2022

07:30hrs: Woke wanting a wee-wee. I thought it would never come; it must have been 15hrs without one. It was hardly worth it, a painful sprinkle or two. At least the bladder is working again, so fingers crossed!

I set, too, giving myself a medical MOT. And taking ‘As needed’ non-prescription medications. There is no need for ointmentating this morning, No Little Inchies fungal lesion or Harold’s Haemorrhoids bleeding whatsoever! Excellent results on the blood pressure machine, best for ages!

The only thing not so good was the body temperature. That was way down low again. Been under the NHS’s recommended 35°c for a few days now. I don’t feel poorly; I am a lot chirpier in myself this morning. Although I felt so cold when it obviously isn’t?

I took some under-tongue CBS oil. And a Hemp capsule too.

Got the ears well saturated with the Olive oil. Let it sink in, and then I filled up the canals with more. This never seems to help, but I’ve got into the habit of doing it each morning now.

Then took a Dioctyl to help skid up the darned Porcelain Throne evacuations. Messy. Gooey, watery! Eurgh!

I got a few Warfarin tablets ready, so the carers will have some available for the evening doses.

Then, had a bash at syringing both ears. Not only a total waste of time; I failed to remove any wax at all, but I made such a mess I had

to clean up the water that had sprayed out off or missed the ears! Hehe!

Got the kettle on and sorted the laundry, not forgetting that talk-a-lot Esther would give me some hassle if it wasn’t ready and sorted when she arrived later this morning! Not that she scares me an anything like that, of course. Ahem!

I took this snap of the lovely morning sky with its ever-changing hues. Mother Nature, again shows us her beauty! The beauty we have been destroying for years.

Got the computer on and started on the WordPress reader and commenting, and the ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ chime brought forth Carer Richard. I thought the lad was late coming; he’s had extra calls on again and was in a rush because he had a four-hour training session later when he finishes work with the Diabetes team to get through. No time for any good natterings today again. I think he felt guilty about it, so I tried to cheer him up, wished him all the best, and gave him a bag of treats. Then, I walked (well, hobbled) with Richard to the lift lobby and wished him well for the meeting.

Took this photo of the car park in front of Woodthorpe Court from the kitchenette window. Made a brew of Glengettie tea and was about to return to the computer with the nug of tea – but circumstances changed…

As usual with Neuropathy Pete, his timing caused the optimum amount of pain and hassle. An involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance made me drop the cup as I grabbed Metal-Micky and the side of the sink to keep from going over. Once more, it was over in seconds, but I still managed to clout my knee on the edge of a floor cupboard. Which awakened Cartilage Cathy in agony! Humph!

Sorted myself out and took an extra Codeine. And fond this photo of a meal from which I can’t work out? It was not a good photo in any way, shape or form, so it might be one that I meant to delete from the file?

Started on the Snippets blog, and the Iceland delivery arrived. I let him in through the intercom box in the hallway, and I cleared a path to put the bags into.

The driver took the bags through to the kitchen for me. Gave him a choice of plonk cans in thanks. He opted, I noticed, for the Rum and coke. Hehe! Good for him; I hope it cheered him up a smidge.

They sent the Rustlers for Richard, sugar snap peas, mushrooms and some new Pork & Pickle Bites. Three for a fiver, so they must be good. One for Josie, one for Richard and one for Esther. I got some small apples that, hopefully, my lesser-teethed mouth can manage to eat. Har-har! They had no small vine tomatoes in stock but have sent me a pack of large tomatoes, Dutch, that had a sell-by date for today. No charge!

The best thing they had sent was the No-Moo ice creams and No-Bull burgers. The best of any burgers I have tried! The ice cream is by far superior in taste to what one might call natural ice cream. Grrreat Flavour both! I’d have ordered more, but I dared not with Iceland’s record of crap unrelated substitutions!

I had another go at getting the Snippet Ode done. (I did get it finished, but not until I’d been grafting on it, on & off, for another nine hours!) Esther arrived and came talkingly into the room. She still wasn’t near enough for me to hear her, and I feared that she may have something vital as she went into the hall, front, and living rooms.

It’s not so bad when she’s face to face and not shouting at me rather than talking to me. Esther, bless her, has a habit of talking and carrying on. Esther keeps talking to me from the rear of my ear lobes as she turns away… the peace and quiet are nice. But there is always danger in this… She has a great memory and thinks because she’s told me something, I must have heard it and will remember it. (Both are impossible in my condition, Haha!)

Then, a week later, I get an ear-bashing from about 4 inches distance and am informed that “I told you that last week!” telling offs. Luckily I can rest assured that Esther will nip off into the other room to have a nosey around my boxes and occasionally iron a shirt… but talking to me all the time from the other room… still, I knew what to expect. Hehe! Obviously, I had forgotten something or not heard it. I’m glad I got the pork & pickle thingamabobs for her now. Giving her then assuaged her aggression. I joke, of course… Erm? She’s an angel, really.

I got the ready meal into the oven and had roughly 40 minutes before it was cooked. I must not fall asleep!

Back to doing the blog, I trudged. ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ rang out, and I wearily (Mentally) went to the door. It was Josie, returning the tray and things for me from the Sunday meal. Bless her cotton socks; she enthused over the taste of this Sunday’s chilli stew! That cheered me up a bit! She even asked if I used to be a chef? Oh dearie me! My EQ was nervous at this. Naturally, I had no idea why at the time. A feeling of foreboding matured…

I got on with the Snippet blogging again! So deep in concentration… still making errors after cock-ups, though. Then it dawned on me that the food was in the oven!!!

Grade A: It looked like this after I’d burnt my fingers getting the tray out of the oven post haste! Not good, is it? But I was so tired and weary that I still used it and made a meal of sorts out of it.

I added some BBQ sauce to the tray. Got some slices of Milk Roll bread, tomatoes and sugar snap peas onto the tray.

I was part mad at myself, well darned annoyed with myself, and so tired and drained, I didn’t get too agitated. Yet I still laughed at myself as I tried to dismantle the encrusted burnt meal to get at some edible bits of food. It helped in having some bread and sauce to soak some resuscitated bits to eat.

By the time I’d finished burnt food mining, which was tasty, believe it or not, bits of burnt food had been scattered far and wide on my stomach folds, down the pants, on the tray, and on the floor and recliner cushion. The carpet took on a new design; there were many black, ash-like bits of residue on it. I faced a long task in getting things sorted… and the kitchen and oven needed cleaning attention as well.

I was all in by the time I got things semi-put right. I made a brew of Thompson’s Punjana tea and ate a huge bowl full of veggie ice cream! I finished it and lay there as I dropped off to sleep – it was so good that I think I dreamed of sleeping…

♫Oh, Susana♫ Chimed out, and Carer Valerie came in. I’d been up and about for around 12 hours by then, and waking up after five minutes of sleeping was not what I wanted… Hehehe! I remembered to give Valerie her Pork & Pickle whatsits, though.

I felt awful but could not resist the urge to finish the blog. The internet went down… now I was getting annoyed!

I pressed on and got the Snippets blog finished at long last. It stayed that way; it was now gone midnight! I realised then that I had not done the ablutions today!

Humph!

ODE TO PUTIN

Is it true that hopes and expectancies are always there?
Putin’s are conspicuous, World Domination, I fear…
He’s somewhat of a Worldwide parcel courier?
Soon, bigger, dirtier packages will be sent, and nuclear…
Where will the scumball strike next? Europe and Asia, it’s unclear…
Anywhere, somewhere, possibly a country that’s weaker?

Is it true that he wears a lemon and pink brassier?
Shags Igor Sechin, his First Deputy Prime Minister?
He laughs at citizens dead or gathered for warmth around a brazier,
The man could not be any more selfish and crazier!

I insult the shithead cause there’s nothing else I can do…
But I would, if I could, send him a can of poisoned Irish stew,
I wonder if he likes it from his minions in his rear?
He’d like to make his competition dead or disappear?
What competition? He’s got more weapons & forces than we do…
He’s more soldiers in Moscow’s Red Square!

We cannot afford to send troops there…
We’ve not got enough, nor has anyone else, to be fair…
I wish we could send him Tony Blair…
Notice he’s not volunteered to do any damage repair?
Putin offers and hopes only for death and despair…
To the rest of the world, we can only die or forebear…
Unless you bribe him if you’re a financier?
Then he just might take a fancy to yer?

Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

Inchcocks Diary (Curtailed), for Fri-Saturday

/ Inchie / 54 Comments

First, a few words to explain why this blog is as pathetic as it is

❶ I’ve lost so much time with Liberty-Global Virgin Media going down, I lost count of how many times in the last two days!

❷ Then, today (Saturday), Facebook started doing the same thing!

❸ I took a tumble on Friday, which left me with the shakes.

❹ The eyes seem worse today; it’s a struggle.

❺ Shaking, Shaun returned.

❻ Eyesight still poor

FRIDAY 20th MAY

Good morning; I didn’t do this blog until Saturday evening. There are very few memory notes on the pad and not many photos to help the grey cells out. Facebook was going off again so often, and Liberty-Global – Virgin Media. So this is not going to be very erudite… not that it ever was. There will no doubt be some guesstimating and missed events.

Up at 01:30hrs to get the previous day’s blog completed. WP Reading. Comments, and I pressed on for hours to get the blog done and posted. Facebooked until it, and Liberty-Global Virgin was going down so often, I gave up. Try to catch up later.

Carer Valerie called, and I had the shakes at the time, which worried her a bit; bless her. I was still a bit unsteady when the Morrison delivery arrived, but when he left the packages in the doorway and had scooted, I started to come round nicely. I took some photos while I got the things away.

Still, the fridge didn’t look overfull to me? Could it be the eyes? Or a ghost coming into the flat and eating my stuff while I slept? I put it down to the Mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, or ectoplasms, that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind? I sorted things out but could sense, no idea how, but this happens sometimes, a feeling that either an involuntary right-leg, Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance Shuddering Shoulder Shirley was on the way and building up in preparation. It was a tingling sensation up and down my right side, where the stroke affected me. Huh! I decided to take as much care as possible to ensure there would be no ending up on the floor again today!

Herbert kicked off with the clattering, seemingly forever dropping things, drills, hammers, and meal boxes… Humph!

Arrived, I was not too good, and she noticed it. Said I was looking sweaty and pale, bless her.

Ablutions, then blogging away, making little progress. The computer went off again, so I made a meal; I can’t really remember if it was this one or not.

I recall going in the wet room, but I must have had a funny turn cause if I’d worked it out right, I was in there for an hour or maybe fell asleep on the Throne?

I had no idea who the evening caller was; I wasn’t even sure one had called… no… one did… I reckon. Shakes bad.

At it again. Clunk-thudding it.

Ah, I think it was Carer Cheeky Charlie who called on me, but… maybe not.

Got to sleep easier tonight, but the jumping awake was annoying.

SATURDAY 21st MAY

Gave up trying to sleep and rose around 01:30hrs.

Worked on blogging, no washing. Did my best.

Serene Sarah, I’m sure. Or Cheeky Charlie, was it? Both are lovely gals.

After she’d gone, I went to use the Throne. I was doing alright, had a wash while in the wet room, and as I turned towards the door, I had an involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance! I hit the wall and slid to the floor, and made a bruising contact with the floor in no time! It had to come; I expected this yesterday. Minutes afterwards, the lower back pain started and still has not stopped. I’ll see it goes, but I may call the NHS 111 number if I am forced to seek assistance. I won’t do it now cause the pain may ease off as time goes on. I’m such a hero… Hehehe! I’ve been a little wobbly on the legs since the Accifauxpas.

I’ve been a bit unlucky this week. The 40 bus did not stop to pick us up at the bus stop. The tumbles and knocks this week. Walked into doorframes, dropped a bowl of potatoes and cheese, burnt my hand, and slipped off of kerb hobbling up Winchester Street… so, everything is normal there then.

At it again. Clunk-thudding.

The Carer is due anytime now. Got a wash and got into the jammies. Then remembered the potatoes I’d put in the slow-cooker 13 hours ago… Mild Panic Mode Engaged, and shot off to check on things in the kitchen…

As I was getting them out of the pot with tongues, I got a hickey as I caught my little finger in the gripper. Oh, heckithump! Not only were they too soft, each one had blackies on the inside when I sliced them, So they are even looser now.

Carer Valerie arrived and asked me if I needed any help with the spuds. I declined her offer but thanked her. She got the tablets given to me and went on her way, taking the waste bags with her. ♥

I got back to the now lesser-blackeyed potatoes I’d sliced, and put them in the oven, to hopefully crisp them up a smidge. Got some tomatoes o the plate ready and two slices of imitation pork. But…

I cast my mind back to when I had to cook and clean for Dad. I’d got no bread, well I had, but it was in the freezer. So I got a few slices out, put them in an empty saucepan with the garden peas, and hoped they would thaw out before I needed them. No freeze, no fridge, no hot water other than what we boiled on the fire and stove, and no electricity (but we did get it later). Easy peasy when we got DC electricity fitted, gone were the candles… and damned good riddance! How the hell did I manage?

I checked on the potatoes, now sliced and in the oven. The sun was beginning to go down, and I took a few minutes pareidoliaing at the cloud formations. II thought I saw a mouth and lips or an imitation black hole that was white. Hehehe!

Got the fodder served up. The slow cooker and sliced and oven-baked potatoes were terrible, possibly my worst effort in years. But everything else was fine and tasty. Taste: 6.5/10.

Off for a wee-wee and had another figure-finding session at the kitchenette window’s clouds. Sadly, no pictures or visions were seen in the clouds this time. Although looking at them now (Sunday morning), I think I spot a monster in there flying?

As I searched for Sweet Morpheus, Herbert gave me a last short mechanical serenade with a whirling, whining sound to round off, decrescendo style. Possibly, an underpowered drill chugging? I mentally wished the aloof Laodicean a good night.

Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

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

/ Inchie / 3 Comments

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

/ Inchie / 1 Comment

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

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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

/ Inchie / 5 Comments

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!

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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?

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

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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