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Sometimes, I fear for the future…
Though the past was no better,
Maybe some hope for the future?
I think maybe they were healthier,
Archaeologists never found an inhaler,
May I be reborn as a Neanderthaler?
They caved in Germany, so did Hitler,
He hid in his underground bunker,
Our DNA is similar to a troglodyter,
Even if heathen & bad-mannered,
We’ve a shared ancestry; I just read,
Politicians should be anathematised,
Instead, the buggers were praised,
If the souls are reborn, rebred…
Zombified, liquefied, or putrefied?
How soon after, how long dead?
Plenty of more options, instead…
Crucified, repurposed, transmogrified?
The unlucky in life, humiliated,
The poor; can be debourgeoisified?
Are they made rich, oligarchalised?
What of those rich on earth? Bribed,
Taught compassion, or rediscerned?
To see suffering; and be concerned?
Many souls arrive, so disenchanted,
Expecting to be interrogated,
At St Peter’s Gate they waited,
Every action to be accounted,
Punishment to be administered?
Justice has to be distributed,
But the poor are not disappointed!
They will not get reannointed…
No sentencing back to life enforced,
For victims, those Oligarchled…
They’ll be Heavenly accommodated,
Warmongers, killers are rebirthed,
The baddest, greediest, the worst,
Born once again back on the earth,
Which explains, for what it is worth,
Along with prison absconders…
Killers, conmen, liars, muggers,
The guilty who are not apologisers,
All selected with assiduousness,
The politically bent & ambiguous,
Is why good humans are ablatitious,
We’ve so many less altruists…
Politicians are the baddest,
Our hopes are the crappiest,
And I have got verbal incontinence.
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SUNDAY 25th OCTOBER 2026
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Good Morning!
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Mudflow in the car park
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Spot of drizzle
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Legs lost a lot of weight
Looking a smidge better, though.
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Not drinking enough water, naughty!
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Wordpressing
Inchy: Thur/Frid 22-23rd October 2026
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THURSDAY 22nd OCTOBER 2026
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Early delivery
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Drain Unblocker; Not for eating.
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Chips shop chips; for eating
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Bottled water; for drinking.
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Morning Sky
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Evening cuppa – Glengettie, of course.
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FRIDAY 23rd OCTOBER 2026
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Must sort out the bed rubbish.
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View through the balcony doors.
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Aha, my knee wound scab finally fell off…
Looked a little like a seashell,
Tuned it over…
This side looked like a seaweed crisp with a covering of semolina on the other side.
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I’d had little bother from the back pain today, until about 13:00hrs. Moved from the computer chair, and it was like the first time I developed Sciatica. Such pain from the right side of my back, and shooting down the right leg each time I stood up, sat down, twisted my torso, or even gently bent down. It’s the same now, 18 hours later.
Remembering the agony I went through last time, I took a Shortec®, Oxycodone Hydrochloride painkiller, hoping it would do some good. It was like last time; I laugh, I cough, stand up, sit down, it hurts. And using the right hand to carry the walking stick also makes the agony burst into life. Still, there you go. All a part & parcel of Inchies Tales of Woe. Another thing that worries me is the bladder backing up. There are a lot of white clumps of something from the bladder, and I have to manually squeeze the tube and shake sediments/incrustations through the tube and into the bag before the flowback pain. I’m sure others are suffering with this? Poor devils.
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Warning Signs (When to Get Help)
Contact a Doctor immediately, or seek medical care if you notice any of the following:
A: A fever or chills. None!
B: Severe, sharp, or worsening pain that does not ease with repositioning. C: No urine output in the bag or a suspected blockage. D: Heavy bleeding or large blood clots in the urine.
This year I’ve had Catheter-wise:
A) Urinary Tract Infections (UTIs): Six.
B) Blockages: Four.
C) Bypassing: Two.
D) Bladder Spasms: Two.
E) Catheter-Associated Meatal Pressure Injury (CAMPI): Downward traction or pressure on the sensitive tissue at the tip of the penis (meatus), causing local tissue injury, and fungal lesions, bleeding, and jets of urine to shoot out through the lesions. Five times.
F) Urethral Trauma and Strictures: Forceful insertion, poor technique, or long-term friction can cause bleeding, inflammation, false passages, or scar tissue (strictures), including failed re-entries. Dozens of times!
G) Urinary & Local Signs: Cloudy or foul-smelling urine, blood in the urine (hematuria). Usual for me, regularly.
H) Strong or frequent urges to urinate, penile discomfort, and painful bladder. Lost count!
I) Systemic Signs: 1. High temperature 2. Shivers, fever, chills? 3) Fatigue. 4) Confusion. (3&4 Everyday)
J) Prostatitis & Prostatic Abscess: Infection can ascend into the prostate gland, causing swelling, focal inflammation, or abscess formation (risk is higher in diabetic men [Me!]). (Twice)
K) Epididymitis & Orchitis: Bacteria can travel down the vas deferens or ejaculatory ducts to cause painful swelling and inflammation of the epididymis or testicles. (Ah, yes, once. I had one testicle the size of a grapefruit, the left one like a peanut!)
L) Urine leakage (bypassing): Urine flows around the outside of the tube due to spasms or minor blockages. (Oh, yesiree! Usually when I’m in a hospital waiting room, on a bus or in a taxi)
K) Meatal irritation: Redness, crusty discharge, or mild pressure injury at the tip of the penis where the tube exits, causing penis and hairs to meld together. Painfully. Every bloody day!
L) False passages: Accidental tears or alternate channels created in the urethral wall during difficult insertions. (Repeatedly!)
M) Rare Long-Term Risks: Chronic inflammation over many years can theoretically raise the risk of metaplasia or bladder cancer.
Well, that was a delight to read.
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An Inchie-Catheter-Inspired-Ode
To encourage flow to the Catheter,
From the cancered bladder…
No, sorry, the cancered prostate, my error,
The Catheter is a cruel taskmaster,
I wish they could fit a turbocharger,
Plus, of course, Mr Burham advised…
Food and drinks will be limited,
Storm Austen viciously hits England,
Power may go down, cut off tap water,
Rain, wind, maybe a thundershower,
Stay indoors, wrap up, bugger the weather,
With wildfires, riots, wars so popular,
Trumpelstiltskin, still wanting Canada,
Suicidal world-ending A.I. technomania,
We may all catch trichotillomania?
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Worra Grest Nosh this one was! Nothing
like the original one I started prepping.
I got the timing wrong on the original;
misread the minuscule cooking tips on
the outer packaging. I’ll tell you all the
involved.
I boiled the potatoes and peas together. Well,
I well-overcooked them, really. Turned
the oven on to heat up while I separated
the peas & spuds. Got some mint and salt,
rubbed into the overcooked potatoes.
Putting the vegetarian pie in the oven, I
dropped it and made a grab for it, ending
with just the pastry lid in my hand, the rest
of it splayed down my dressing gown, over
the Catheter, down my leg onto the floor.
(Ahem!) I laughed heartily, muttered
summat like, “Well fancy that!” Dusted myself
down, cleaned myself, the floor, and whistled
contentedly as I got a smaller pie, round vegan
pie from the fridge, and put the dish in the
microwave to keep the spuds & peas warm.
The lid of the other pie in the photo, copied
the first pie’s lid, and fell off!
If I recollect properly. Knocking a bottle of
soy sauce off of the counter as I did.
On the plus side, it did not break… however,
it did land straight on my ingrown toenail.
I smiled to myself and started singing, well,
hummed the Shadows Wonderful Land hit.
🎸Ding, ding, ding dum-dum de-ding 🥁
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Then I washed the dishes and watched ‘Heartbeat’ on TV, getting up several times to take shots of the night view below, in chronological order. (I think)
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FINAL THOUGHTS ODE
Thursday & Friday were both a bugger,
Although I could say summat other…
I knew it’d be bad; I’m not a soothsayer,
A good day? I don’t have a prayer,
My tunnel’s end? lightless, it’s darker,
Whoopsiedangleplops, life gets yuckier
Good fortune, success, can I get luckier?
Physically wrecked, mentally unstabler,
Hopes, dreams, faith, plans all wither,
Options, choices, decisions; no, I dither,
Carers that I can’t afford, I’m no viveur,
My doing this blog was once a saviour,
It helped to satiate my verbomania…
With my mind affected, I feel crazier…
Seizures, dementia, now an Alhziemer,
Deafness, cataract, TBI, and glaucoma,
Figures, facts, reality getting vaguer,
Contentment avoids me, gets rarer,
Time to get things done gets shorter,
Be prepared for when you get older…
Your attitude when you were younger,
May change, and also your behaviour,
Some turn huffier, pricklier, snappier,
Crotchetier, crustier, curmudgeonlier,
Decaying memory, so a bad timekeeper,
Surlier, gruffer, harsher, maybe ruder?
Then, like me, every day will be a bugger!
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Inchie Today: Mon/Tue 19/20th October 2026
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MONDAY 19th OCTOBER 2026
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I was in the midst of my last horrible dream; I was trying to jump from a wooden string-roped bridge into the water below. Not worried about going over at all. But the odd things that kept interrupting and kept me from diving in were endless. Some I recalled the moment that Carer Andrew came in and switched the light on. I tried to stay with the dream, and I don’t think I responded to the lad very well. Well, you wouldn’t when a pink gorilla came from the trees and shouted that he is an Alziemers councillor, and started towards me on the rickety tied-on wooden planks, shaking the bridge all over, and this made me change my mind, and I decided not to jump after all.
I think, well, I’m almost sure that earlier an alien alighted from a dome-topped mini spaceship, laughed at me, calling me a whimp, and tasered me. Climbed back into his tiny ship, turned, put two fingers up, and said, in a squeaky voice, ‘Cheers, Dumbo!’)
Vague, broken memories of other dreams lingered for a while, and then I realised Andrew had arrived when the light made me jump and forced me into a semi-responsive state. I greeted him, and he didn’t look happy. Why? I wondered if I’d been doing the somniloquy stuff again when he came in. Last week, when Inram did a teatime call, and I’d fallen asleep in the computer chair. He laughed so much when he woke me. He told me that I was talking unintelligible gobbledygook and was using a fair bit of bad language, but laughing as I did so. Of course I didn’t know if I was somniloquying this morning, but I might have been. Young Andrew did not seem too impressed with things. Haha!
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Another horrible day!
British Gas called me; I found out why: Jenny, my Angel, had contacted them. The bloody mobile phone of mine. I so hate it. It doesn’t ring when anyone calls, and I can’t hear voice messages. BG showed 8 missed calls (which grew to 19). And 11 missed calls. Ejaz contacted them, and I had to give my email, name and address. While doing so, the bloody mobile disconnected. TWICE!
Ejaz spoke with them; they said they would have to get back to me in a few days to prove who I was… WHAT?
I began to be frustrated and mega depressed, and didn’t feel very good.
I tried to get some of this blog done, but then the Catheter started flowing back- the pain! So I took a Codeine and Morphine.
Agony, but to make things worse, I then took a mild tumble. Not feeling up to much.
I’ll have to stop here, sorry.
I was already worried about the visit to the Audio Clinic, and getting things sorted as far as I could, but felt even more out-of-it. Then the BG farce, and bloody mobile. At one point, I was on the bloody mobile, and the landline and the intercom rang at the same time. I reckon that helped me take the fall. The sodding intercom wasn’t working again; I had to go down three times to see who it was, and each time no one was there at the foyer door. Now I know I won’t have time to catch up on this blog, a chance I may have to go to A&E with the Catheter problem… the Carer to be asked to help me get dressed. Will the Catheter… Enough!
Might get this a little caught up tomorrow…
Ha! Just remembered I changed the delivery time for the food to between 21 & 22:00hrs, so sleep will be a more urgent need than whatever it was I was going to write, but I’ve forgotten it now. If my bladder backs up, I might ring the District Nurses? I’m fed up. 
A near-noon photograph from the kitchenette window. Very few photos taken today; I’m afraid they’re scarce, indeed negligible. However, that is due to cock-ups and failures on my behalf, but the main culprit was, without a doubt;
British Gas: oligarchs with the worst complaint record of any of the 20 active domestic energy suppliers supplying the UK! So many indecisive, detail-seeking, and rejecting phone calls made and received today.
There was no time to even start this blog!
In fact, and I’m not joking, it is now nearly midday on Wednesday 21st October, when I started this blog!
To make things worse, it took more time and was, frustratingly, mentally crippling, as Tuesday was as bad as Monday was for time and dwindling finances! I had no time to get any blog done, and with so much short, pathetic sleep, my body forced me to get some on Tuesday. When I was sitting at the computer, I couldn’t get myself mentally together to try to make a start… I did scribble a few notes, forgot to take the camera with me; I was so…
But I’ll get to that later. (I hope)
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British Gas
Here to Solve!
The lying Oligarch, communicatively confusing,
sourpuss, and AI, off-putting, rigmarole-ridden, sending us around the houses just to reach a human, although I question that at times, awkward, two-faced, off-putting, disconnecting our calls. They give us numbers, direct us to another company that, judging by their pissed-off voices, tells us to keep telling people to ring us, and we have no connection with British Gas! No doubt in reply to a management instruction, in a vain effort to reduce the amount of complaints by making sure we can’t get through, and giving out dates for service maintenance or repairs they have no intention of keeping?
I suppose you think that I am getting annoyed? Piqued, cross, aggravated, disgruntled, exasperated, irked, irritated, nettled, and upset with British Gas’s lack of honesty, cheating, misrepresentation, equivocation, deception, fabrication, fibbing, falsification, fooling, deceiving, deluding, hoodwinking, conning, tricking, bamboozling- are you? They are the most deceitful, underhanded, deceptive, chicanery-ridden, unscrupulous, devious, artful set of customer (non) service givers I’ve ever known. Bearing in mind, I have suffered similar avoidance & evasion tactics to suit their own measures from Virgin Media and HMG Customs & Excise. (I lost those battles as well).
Having tried all of the above, and failed.
Makes British Gas Customer Service ineptitude far worse (or superior) than that of all the other Oligarchs, guilty parties, and companies put together.
A company that exists to sort out people’s complaints against power-supplying companies will not help anyone using British Gas for electricity; see below.
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CEO Chris O’Shea: total pay package £4.73 million
A Genuine letter from British Gas Oligarchs to an elderly customer… Mrs Nightmare is not her name!
I’ve got to stop on this subject.
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Photos taken during the day.
Sweet & sour with egg fried rice.
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Sunset snaps
Last one
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TUESDAY 20th OCTOBER 2026
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DISAPPOINTING DAY
Little was achieved, compounded by the failure at the Audio Clinic, which at first seemed great but left a lingering threat of terrible things, like needing to telephone my Doctor, a challenge much feared nowadays, with the possible result being taxi fares to get my ears de-waxed. My Doctor told me that although she had cleaned the hearing aids, there was still so much wax in them that she expected the Cerumen to block things up again in a few days.
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PRE-DURING & AFTER THE VISIT
I spent an odd evening and night,
Nodded off in the chair, woke feeling shite,
Just had a seizure, became a somnambulist…
For 4 hours in the chair I’d slept,
Realising, quick as a sulphite,
Twas the end of my sleep tonight,
For tomorrow’s, to Audio Clinic…
The thought got me in a panic,
Things to plan, & with my Attention Deficit,
Details, timing, my brain went bicentric…
My mind resisted, went all abulic,
Wanting things to go right, I’m apophenic,
What to take, have I got the schematic?
Painkillers for knees & shoulders rheumatic?
Hospital Transport arranged, ‘ecstatic’!
Trouble is I’m so amnestic,
Expecting today to go all tragicomic,
I think my plans will turn out theoretic,
Lovely people at the Audio Clinic,
Surely, they’ll make me hear better,
Then I can offer them a douceur,
My offer in thanks will be sincere,
A Clinic? To me? More a sacraria.
But today, it was scarrier,
Tell you more later.
Later came Andrew, my Carer,
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The lift arrived from the hospital,
Two drivers, one short, one tall,
Got me there without a fall,
Into the crowded waiting hall,
Cram-packed, space available minimal,
No one spoke, well, said little at all.
As all awaited things audiological,
We got sat down; Andrew did squibble
When I stood up for an amble,
Cather bag was slowly filling,
Been there a long time, I wasn’t caring,
My name was called; we were led in…
Soon she hearing aid mending,
Then my ears investigating,
She said both ears need olive-oiling,
Said do that, twice daily,
She frowned, and said earnestly,
They’re working now, as you can see,
Expect another blockage, & quickly,
You must phone your surgery,
See if they do wax removal…
If not, you must pay for it privately,
Costing £50 an ear is normal,
I agreed, querimoniously,
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Then we left to ring for a taxi,
Then I started to get a little angry,
At the route taken, costing me…
I said, “Where are you going, matey?”
And this taxi cost was mounting,
I’m using GPS; where should I be?
I told him, pensively,
We got home eventually,
It was as much as going to the QMC!
Got up in the flat, Andrew and I,
I wanted, needed a mug of tea.
Thus today did not go satisfactorily.
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Bed, sleep seemed an attractive idea; but no!
I’d rearranged the food orders for late in the day.
The first one at 17/1800hrs, the second for 18/1900.
Carer Mirza called me; always glad when he calls. I planned to get down for 1630hrs to let him in, but I got stuck scribbling notes about the day when the intercom rang. I went down, but no one was there. I thought it was later than it was, and the wardens wouldn’t be able to let him into Winwood Court. I went back up to the flat and found him in there. To my pleasure, they were here because he’d arrived earlier than usual. Good job, too!
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Boiled two large spuds, cut
them in half, and added
some smoked vegan cheese
on top of each slice, and
they tasted Grrreat!
Lip-smacking good!
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First food delivery arrived early
Second one a smidge late
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Done for, fell asleep after washing the pots.
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WEDNESDAY 21st OCTOBER 2026
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Woke up after four hours’ sleep, with the upcoming acid reflux filling my chest, up to my throat, mouth and nasals. I was well disoriented. The Carer came in. I can’t even recall who it was, but I sensed I’d been hurried too much given the state I was in. He kept asking what painkillers I wanted. He then disappeared into the WC for ten minutes. No problem. He departed, and I sorted the bins. I was still not fully compos mentis. But thought things 
were becoming clearer. Still a bit vague, though. I then put some garden peas in spring water, some light soy sauce. I plan to add sliced potatoes for later.
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I looked at the Carer’s medication table and instantly thought, “Well, this needs some sorting out!”
But forgot about it when the intercom rang for the fifth time, and I had to shoot down to the lobby to let them in.
No one was there, for the fourth time. When I said shoot, a more appropriate word would be ‘hobble’.
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The mobile battery died. The computer would not start up. Nor would the TV. The intercom failed every call. The kitchen hot tap is dripping. The kettle went bang… but still works? I tried to count of many things I dropped, but lost track; there were so many. Ah, I found a loose page with numbers and details of some of them that I could not find or dropped: Saucepan lid, tea bag pot, pens (3), picker-upper (2), camera, mobile (2), hearing aids, toothache spray, Olive-oil dropper, water bottle (3),
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Carer Raj did the long call visit, hah! I’ll say no more; he’s a big lad, and doesn’t take criticism well.
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I thought this was an Iceland fresh cake, but it turned out to be frozen. Still, it looks like I’ll get some fresh Cream & Lemon store-baked ones from Morrisons next Wednesday. These are for my Angel & her hubby Frank, as a little thank you.
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Afternoon view before the rains poured.
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Inchie Today: Tuesday 13th October 2026
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TUESDAY 13th OCTOBER 2026
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0525hrs: I woke up, smelled myself, and got up without any delay and went to the wet room. No, no, no! I’d not poo’d myself; I just noticed I had bad B.O.
I also noticed I had regrowth on my chest & a bulging tummy of freckles and tiny 
bursting pimples. The Carer took a snap of them later.
Then the call to the Porcelain Throne developed, with an added gurgling rumble; so I had to move quickly!
Emptying the pouch, I saw the dreaded signs of another bladder flow-back coming.
More of furry bits of the blasted Prostate, which tells me problems are brewing.
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Banged into the ottoman on the way back to the front room. Another bruise on the knee, and the scab from the previous knocking into or over something.
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PROBLEM ONE: I got 3 emails saying the Catheter contraption spares are to be delivered today. With the intercom still not working and no signs of it being done, I decided I had to go 
down yet again to the lobby to await its arrival at the start of the two-hour window given to me. So, I did! (Old photo used), since I didn’t take the camera.
After and short wait, the van arrived. The driver was not in a good mood – my EQ advised me to be kind to him; he was definitely tense over something. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to; I got his vibes, poor chap. Back up in the flat, he put the box in the doorway; I thanked him and shot off.
PROBLEM TWO: I foolishy bent down to lift the box, and took it through and onto the bed, for the next Carer to sort out for me. As I bent again to place the box on the bed, Snap! My back went! The agony continued for several hours before the blessed snapping-back into position came while I was sitting on the loo! I can’t complain; this is the first time it’s gone in… well, at least 6 months, if not longer.
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Ejaz came and checked the contents: nocturnal pouches and day pouches, both with T-tap closures, day bag straps and Catheter top strap. Insert the tubes and vital pain-gel into Little Inchie before inserting the new tube, or when changing the whole contraption. I think they now realise and expect, as I do, that I’m going to get flowback agony again and need it released more often than ever. I think the fluffy bit coming out in the urine is because it’s bound to block it again eventually. I cringe at the thought of the pain I get when this happens.
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PROBLEM THREE: I wanted to call the Surgery to say the INR Warfarin test was not done yesterday. I also wanted to speak with them about the text message saying I have to go to the Surgery or hospital to have it done tomorrow and that I must take a Carer with me. I wanted to explain the problems with taxi costs, Carer costs, and that I can’t get extra calls without a few days’ notice anyway (Basically).
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I emailed Jenny about my problem. (She’s so knowledgeable, and I always ask her for guidance, which she gives freely 💗.) She advised me to email the Surgery. So, I did!
I bothered Jenny again, and she gave me links to find out why the message was blocked. I clicked…
Ah, now I know. Thanks, Jenny💜
Found this at the bottom of the page…
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BOOKING AN APPOINTMENT if you dare!
Couldn’t Be Simpler (I lie!)
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CONFUSING PROBLEM FOUR: Still unsolved.
Complicated too. A phone call: I received it from the Doctor’s Surgery. They said they had arranged a COVID injection, gave me a date, and they would do it at the flat. Great so far… It got me in a tizzy when she added, “We couldn’t arrange yesterday’s Warfarin INR blood test.”
“So you will have to come into the surgery, or go to the QMC hospital to have it taken”.
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I was stunned. A semi-panic started to grow.
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Then, in the early evening, I got another call from the Surgery. They asked if the Carer was there. I told her she’d just missed him. Asked me to make sure they ring the Surgery in the morning; it is important. I said I would.
But of course, I might forget. So I wrote on the whiteboard: “Carer: Please ring Surgery this morning”. Well, he might see it; it’s written big enough.
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I detected a lot of furry bits of Prostate when I emptied the day bag. Not a self-assuring thing to find. I must pass this on to the District Nurses when they come.
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I was getting irritable with things and myself. It’s a bloody good thing that I had no idea what was about to happen tomorrow. Although, with my luck, does it matter?
I gave up on starting this blog. I was so fed up, frustrated 
, and greatly depressed. Not to mention how tired and confused I was of today’s events. I turned of the computer and went into the kitchenette to make a meal.
My version of a vegetable curry. I put a can of ready-made veg curry (J. Sainsburies) in the pan. I added a tin of garden peas, then some chopped water chestnuts.
I found a carrot in the fridge, sliced it very thinly, and added it to the pot. Seasonings added: mild curry powder, soy sauce and a splash of teriyaki sauce.
Fingers crossed. 🤞🏼
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I emailed Jenny back, and while the meal was cooking, I took the boxes with the padding to the waste chute. Coming back to the flat, my right leg gave way without any warning (shaking) or time to prepare. But no bother, I threw myself in the corner of the recessed lift doors, and avoided going down on the hard floor or having to press my wristlet alarm. Mind you, they wouldn’t have heard me anyway at that distance. The bigger bonus was not going to the hospital to be ignored, then mauled. Plus, 
no damage to the Catheter or leaking! Yes, a bit of good luck there! No doubt! Back limpingly to the flat, and took a snap of the view from the kitchen window
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Then, tucked into the meal nice and early. Slurp!
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Carer Prem arrived as I was washing the pots. A good lad. He removed my diabetic socks, fetched the torch which had had its solar panel in the kitchen window through the day. Got it in my dressing gown pocket. Asked if I’d eaten, pain killers given, and did a Catheter check.
Took this Snap of the same angle as the earlier one. I’m not getting on with these new Kodaks, disappointed.
Then I got things ready to sit down and put on the TV. 💤
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My mind wandered back to the last QMC Visit.
My Catheter was getting blocked every 2 weeks. District nurses are finding it harder and harder to get back in; the pain increases with each attempt. On the last try, they could not get it back in, and the bladder was filling and, oh, so painful. I was told that this is a medical emergency (as if I didn’t know). I had to go to QMC A&E. I had to get a taxi to A&E for future blockages. More spending, reducing my dwindling funds. Jenny said it costs about £15 each way. I had to go to QMC straight away. Carer Ejaz was in the flat and got me dressed.
Got me in the taxi; off I went alone. I had to use coins to make up the £30. Traffic lights out, roadworks… it cost me £25.40 just getting there, so I didn’t have enough dosh to get back. At the A&E, I booked in. The receptionist looked up my details and asked, “Which Carer is with you, Ejaz or Mirza?” I told her neither, as this was a medical emergency, and I can’t produce a Carer with 15 minutes’ notice. I couldn’t afford one anyway. “Why do you pay for them?” I had no answer.
I sat down. I was called for a BP and Q&A session by a kind nurse, then sat down again. Eventually, a man came out to collect me, and I waited in another waiting room. Signed in and sat down. Then the most embarrassing thing happened: the fungal lesions on the penis started spraying urine and blood into my PP’s, and I could feel it going down my legs into my shoes. I’d taken a roll of kitchen towels and tried to hide in a corner while I stemmed the flow. I asked an attendant where the WC was. She said if I left now, I might miss my call. I quickly explained my problem. Told me the WC was near the Q&A entry doors where I came in.
I struggled with the walker through the corridors, sweating and fearing the blockage and leak might take me over. Got to the bog, found it unoccupied, and went straight in. The floor was completely covered in an inch-deep liquid; there was no soap, no toilet rolls and no paper towels.
Hobbled back to the room I was in, got lost en route, recovered, and the attendant told me I’d missed my call, to sit down again and wait. The urine was still trickling out, and I’d used all of my kitchen roll, as a Doctor came out & called my name.
He took out the old-fashioned Catheter and tried twice to insert the new hooked one, but failed. This boded badly for the future. He got on his phone, then took me through the corridors to another room and a medic, a Mr Someone. He was just getting his coat on to go home, so was not exactly in a jovial mood. Even he took twice as long to get the tube back in. He shot off. Apart from telling me not to let the sticky pod which held the new tube array on my leg come off. No tips on whether or when there was a schedule change, when maintenance visits would happen, or what types of pouches I should use. I felt a little uncared for. But that soon changed when I hobbled back to the big waiting area with my walker; by a bit of good luck, I spotted the lady who took my BP six hours ago when I arrived,t and gave her a quick version of my problems, including not having enough money for a taxi. She said I’ll be back in a minute; take a seat. (I did a lot of seat-taking that day) She returned to tell me she had arranged a lift for me. Minutes later, lift drivers came and put me into an ambulance. Being put in first indicated I was going to be dropped off last. Thanks to the kind nurse, I got a free late lift home. Bless her 💜 after about nine hours overall being out of the flat.
I printed this again. Hehehe! Sorry.
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Stayed up until 03:00hrs to get this done
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Inchie Today: Monday 13th October 2026
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= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
MONDAY 13TH OCTOBER 2026
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START TO THE DAY
I stirred at 0620hrs, feeling rather perky; that lasted a few minutes while I climbed out of the hospital bed and did my balance checks… Then hastily hobbled to the Porcelain Throne.
Although I made it in time, seconds to spare before the torrent blasted out of its own accord. The pebble-dashed bowl, combined with the stink, and worse, cleaning up of the mess, took me ages.
During the morning, follow-ups were frequent.
I kept a note of them on the pad. When Ejaz arrived, I took this snap of the visits paid. All the same style.
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Carer Andrew arrived. His usual self again. On his phone and ignoring me as I spoke to him. Medications given; pain cel slapped on my back, onto his phone. No body check. No Catheter contraption check. Or Barrier cream checks. Not that it mattered much; Carer Prem did them all on his shorter visit last night.
Very frustrating, and I’ve heard nothing of the request to have the three good lads service me. At times like this I’m tempted to cancel them altogether and struggle on my own. But that was a stupid idea. They have me figuratively by the balls. Only when the three good lads call do I cheer up, but, of course, they don’t call at all later in the week or over the weekend. I’m paying a fortune but not getting the service they say I’m getting.
Unglefrogwonglingisations!
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I was pressing on, then Ejaz arrived; great to have him talk about what needs doing, and caring too.
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As he left, the dreaded confusion came over me like a blanket of unhappiness. I was incapable of doing much at all. My own thoughts were hard to gather and form into any kind of logic. I gave up on the computer and hoped to get some used cartoons later to make up for not waffling of much of usual.
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Inchie Today: Tuesday, 25th August 2026
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TUESDAY 25th AUGUST 2026
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06:35hrs: I stirred back into ersatz, pretend life. Wriggled and rolled a little to test out which ailments might be the most painful, in my effort to dismount the hospital bed and get my nocturnal Catheter pouch off. The outcome was rather less than expected. The new magic neck pain, the discomfort of the day Catheter tubing, and Anne Gyna were the only ones sensed.
Colin Cramps and a few seizure aftertastes, which had been waking me up so often overnight, had dissipated altogether. Nice!
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I managed to get up, sort the pouches out, and do a safety check of the flat for taps left running and fridge/freezer doors open. Then got the kettle on. Doing these little tasks, I had to make three visits to the Porcelain Throne in 15 minutes. Constipation Conrad in total charge.
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Carer Andy arrived in a perky but reluctant mood. Medications were issued, but we could not find any codeine tablets. We both searched through the medical prescription and Over-the-counter medicine drawers. Andrew said he had informed his head office about them. I got the waste bins into one large bag. It’s still there now (2040hrs).
Carer departed, and I had another dock-hard, Haemorrhoid-tearing visit to the Throne.
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The expected delivery from Morrisons arrived. I tell you now to get the embarrassment over quickly; Today, I made super-cock-ups with the food orders. Arithmophobia and my stupidity are what I put the blame on. Maybe Premorbid Cognitive Impairment, Inchie. I was utterly disgusted with myself. The idea of doing an order to cover three weeks seemed so clever at the time. All three came on the same day; Today! Understandably, people complain about my stupidity in doing the things I do. But I simply cannot help it; in a way, it is not me doing these and other daft & dangerous things. But I still do them. Now Morrison, then came Asda, and finally the Iceland deliveries! It hurts, frustrates and annoys me doing them. No particular depression, just self-loathing.
I’d prefer to not mention them again, please. Thanks.
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The new Warfarin INR blood results came in the post; that was quick. New doses confirmed.
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Carer Mirza visited. Checked LV house content problem, and I called Complex Warden Deana and asked Mirza to talk with her about the lower cost of NCC insurance. Not sure what happened. Just had a seizure while writing this. Memory Mangling Malcolm? Mirza fitted a new Catheter on the right leg this time.
He then took the laundry down to the laundrette. Then he mopped the kitchen floor for me.
Then went down to put the clothes in the dryer. Did the safety checks and hoovered up. Checked the drawers to see if the missing Codeine tablets were there, but no.
Then he went down to collect the laundry.
While he was out, more food arrived, and I was having difficulty getting all the canned food on the top shelf of the double cupboard.
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I got the shakes while reaching up to put the cans on the top shelf and knocked about eight of them off onto the floor! Some bounced of the hard-top counter, but one of 
them, a can of new potatoes, took the more direct route, via hitting my right shin, then to the floor.
At this point the self-cursing started, as Carer Mirza returned with the washing.
He cleaned up a 
scrape wound and put some Germolene and a plaster over it. Saved the day again. Mirza did another grand job of caring for me today.
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How did I take this photo with no camera?
Well, as soon as Mirza departed, Amazon delivered the camera. I can’t photograph it, but I’ll ask a Carer later to take one on his mobile and email it to me. Like any other childlike 81-year-old with a new toy, I decided to set up and use the new camera. As recommended by Carer Ejaz: “It would be a good idea to get the same model as before; otherwise you’ll get in a pickle with the new contraptions and workings of a different one” Very good suggestion, mate; a wise idea. Thanks!
So, after setting it up but entering the wrong date and not remembering how I set it in the first place, I gave up and got on with taking some sky-cloud shots.
Here is my first effort…
Almost square shape?
Nice views though
The trees are begging to look greener!
Caught the balconies on this one.
Then back to try and set a wider
view for the snaps.
I attempted to read the instructions…
Writing was too small
So to change, on the fly…
Aha, I cracked it…
Can you see the animal’s head?
General Degaul in this one?
The worms?
From the kitchen window, this one
A smug mode developed.
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I mentioned that I do some acts almost like a remote control, unthinkingly, and I told the Doctor at Haywood Hospital about this trait acquired months ago.
Well, me making this a great dollop come mound; this agglomeration, hodgepodge of a gigantic meal, is a perfect example of what can happen when something in my head tells me not to bother and to press on. Worrying.
It consisted of Mushroom pâté, chicken lumps, tomatoes, carrots, garden peas, soft cheese, curly fries, pork & pickle mini pies, cheese & onion bread, cooked beef, gherkins, and potatoes!
Needless to say, I could not eat it all, and must have binned two-thirds of it. I recall eating all of the mushroom pâté, the peas & carrots, the bread and the potatoes.
Then washed the dishes, etc., and moved on to an ice
cream cornet & lemon curd dessert?
Then put the TV on early to watch the Nottingham Forest match against Leeds Utd. (Sister Jane called to remind me it was on ITV). I stayed awake up to half-time, and the adverts came on. Zzz! Waking up in a seizure a couple of hours later, still TV on and the volume louder… Sorry, neighbours. I think going into a home might help me; I’m not coping well.
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Inchie Today: 19th July…no, June, 2026 – An even worse start to the day!
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FRIDAY 19th July 2027
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Another ever-waking-up night!
I got up to respond to a rare nocturnal demand for the 
Boy, was it hard. The word concrete came to mind as I sat there trying to force, to urge it along, a single torpedo. It was a dark green colour, with yellow tinges. It almost clunked as it was evacuated against the porcelain, too large to fit in the water. I guess 70% of it was out of the water.
Possibly a record for me. Hehe! I cleaned myself up, a fair bit of bleeding as it painfully edged its way to freedom.
Tore off the PPs, I’ll ask the Carer in a few hours when he does the first call, to help me get them on.
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Missed off of yesterday’s post
I’d written these down on the notepad, but since I was forced to do mostly written info, I might have thought I was done with it until I looked at the post later on. It was hard work yesterday. Why? I’ll tell yers…
Midday, I asked the Carer to ring and report that my hot water was running cold. Again, I did not want to risk carrying the slow-cooker bowl and kettle from the kitchen to the wetroom and back several times just to have a wash and shave. High Accident Risk.
He was on my landline for about 4 minutes, then drifted back to his mobile phone to report the event. I called him, but no response, so I went out into the hallway and asked him if the cold water situation had been reported. “They will ring you back later”. I’ve never heard of them saying that before. So I asked again for confirmation. “Yes”, he said. Then disappeared into the hallway again. I asked him to mop the kitchen for me, which he did in four minutes. Nippy?
I asked him if he was going on a long call along with the short call – he checked his mobile, and said “Yes”. I inquired how long he had been doing. “1½hrs,” I asked him why was he playing on his phone, while the laundry still needed doing? He took the laundry down. I asked him to call Jenny to put her in the frame.
He returned later, five minutes later (nippy?). And said he had to go now. So, he went. Naturally, I got on with the blog and forgot all about the maintenance not calling.
About 16:10hrs, the Carer returned. I asked him again, “Had you been told they would ring back?” Answer, “I think so.” I asked him to call them, but he wasn’t interested. So after he left, I rang them as he left sharply. I asked him to make the rolls for me the same as the previous night. Which he did.
I got through to the Maintenance number and went through two sets of choices, but on the third set, I had difficulty hearing them. I opted for number 4, and the phone rang, changed to Music, with regular “All we ask is that you treat our staff with respect as they help sort your problem”, then back to Music. For twenty minutes!
I assumed that, as I was late, calling was the problem.
So two days, soon to be three days without a wash or shave. I’m running out of antiperspirant!
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Return to a hopefully chronological schedule.
I got back into bed, but sleep wasn’t forthcoming, only Agina’s and Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley’s pains.
I was surprised when I got up again and tested the tap to see if hot water had miraculously heated up (Huh!). It hadn’t, and when I put on the computer, it was only 02:45 hrs!
I could not believe it when the follow-through from the first evacuation started. How can this be when it was a rock-solid torpedo on the last visit? I casually hobbled my way to the WC, and was suddenly in a panic as I felt the escapee from the rear end on its way out, wet and warm! 
(Impossible surely?) But, no! This time it was controlled by 
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An involuntary escapage, made worse and messier by my not having any Protection Pants on! I need to say no more about the incident.
However, I will do the cleanup of my body, the bowl, and the splashes!
The real worrying thing was taking all the pain, effort and time to free the dreadnaught an hour earlier, and then this Trotsky effort comes along, wet in the extreme, and all over in seconds. But overall, with the time spent cleaning up, they took about the same amount of time.
I stayed up and checked the dates on the food in the fridge. Then spent some time self-lambasting about my patheticness in not coping with all the messes and insurmountable problems amassed over the last 3 months, in addition to the older ones; and they all remain unsolved. And stewed over my failings. I thought that the effects of Premorbid Cognitive Impairment and the TBI on my abilities to do some things were not being taken into account. I have to accept this, no choice. But I am irked by some comments and instructions.
As with “You’ll have to go to the QMC A&E by taxi if you get any problems with this new Hooked Catheter”. No discussions, just an instruction for me for the future. I won’t go into all the problems this gives me physically, financially, time-wise, and practically.
These thoughts have increased my need and desire to please get put in a home.
Hopefully, a lot of these problems, for that is what they are for me, should be reduced.
One of the most heartwarming things I’ve been told this week is that Jenny & Frank said they could visit me. I am surviving now only through their support and understanding. Bless them; they have their own difficulties to cope with. Yet they find time to help me, so much, so often.❤️🤗X.
The above thought must have helped me calm down, for I soon fell into a deep sleep. Zzzz!
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CARER EJAZ TO THE RESCUE!
PROBLEMS started as the chime from the intercom rang out. My mind and body were all over the place. As best I can recall, a shortness of breath was the first thing I noted. I struggled to get out of bed, and even more to stand up & get my balance, in fact, I didn’t for a while. Carer Ejaz had to fill in the details of the next 15 minutes or so. This bit is now a blank to me.
I got to the door as Ejaz arrived. I was unaware of the night bag dragging as I walked. He took it off in the hallway. I was out-of-it, and wandering about, he said he had trouble getting me to settle and sit down.
I was not talking properly, and he had to ask me to repeat things for a few minutes, although my normal stuttering returned minutes later.
I seemed intent on asking him to get someone to ring the Council Repairs about my having no hot water, and had not washed or shaved for maybe three days now. Thank heavens it was Ejaz who called, not one of the others; he even checked this writing for me later, for accuracy, I had to change some things in it.
He said I was struggling to walk even with a stick, and fetched me back as I was apparently getting a bottle of soda water from the fridge, and I had one that I’d fetched earlier put on the falling-to-pieces cabinet the computer was on. He stood away from me as I wobbled back into the room and just collapsed, crumpled to the floor. He thought the right leg had given way by the way I went down. I had trouble getting hold of his hands as he tried to get me up. It seems I was way off target, but he soon had me up and onto the bed. He was musing over whether to call 999 and sat watching over me for a while. He thought I’d fallen asleep for ten minutes or so, then woke, looking around for the nocturnal Catheter bag, which concerned me, as it wasn’t there. Noting how I got up so easily & moved to the chair, he thought I was coming back then, but still asked if I wanted to press the alarm alert. I thanked him and declined the offer. He said he could understand me more easily when I talk at this point.
From here, I was more with it, and my memory was pretty clear of what happened.
The lad gave me the medications, making sure I took them all, with the mineral water, without dropping any. Like I did yesterday, I found a Codeine on the floor near the computer that the Carer had not noticed. Ejsz then Phorpain Gelled my right shoulder. He asked if I wanted a brew and bikkies or flakes for breakfast. I thanked him, but declined. (I think, no, I’m sure).
I know I asked him, maybe not for the first time, if he could get someone to ring the NCC Repairs to confirm with them of how long I’d been without hot water.
And told him of the Carers’ cock-up, telling me they (NCC Repairs) were going to ring me back, and they didn’t, if indeed they had said that at all – they most likely told him they were so busy, I had to ring them back. And of my 3 failed attempts at getting through, the last time I waited 20 minutes before giving up.
Ejaz had overstayed his time, bless him, and had to rush off. I don’t think I thanked him properly for his help.
I feel awful now about that.
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JS FOOD DELIVERY
The JC delivery arrived, just in time to miss the Carer.
Only one item was missing, which meant the cream cakes, lemon wafers, and orange & lemon mousse arrived for Jenny & Frank. Frank came up to collect them later. Kind of him. Some nice ready-made meals.
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I was slowly coming around and feeling a little better, more aware of things. And emailed Jenny in hopes of taking the treats down for her & Frank.
Frankie arrived, bless him, to pick up the treats. I think they’ll like these, without doubt. Got an email from Jenny explaining that I was a badly behaved boy. Hehe!❤️🌸
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I spent a while pondering why I was in such a state this morning, but reached no definitive conclusions.
This was my second night of only smatterings of sleep.
I was mega-tense last night, with all the problems old and new, like the NCC Repair line not working, a total of six calls have been made over the last two days, not getting through. No Carer has asked Carer Mirza to call the computer man for help with the new problems with the new computer; each and every one of them has been asked, and begged by me, to do it for me. The old and well-outstanding problems with the Oligarchs, Virgin Media, British Gas, Liberty-Global, TSB Bank, Repayment of ICC Fees, and trying to tell the world that I need to get proper help and Care… Still, never mind!
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Carer Andrew arrived, and I asked him again to ring the NCC to explain that I had no hot water. I also told him that two nights ago, he had not done the safety checks that should be done on leaving after each call. Oven, stove, taps not running in the kitchen or bathroom, and fridge & freezer doors not open. I burnt my fingers on the hot pot and nearly dropped the contents all over, but managed to miss myself and had to clean it up.
He said, ‘Sorry’, which was something. Again, he did not issue the Vit-3d tablets, but I understood why. They were for a short-course treatment, so these would not have been on the ICC Carers’ list, and I can’t always remember. I explained this to him and took the tablet from the pot myself, adding it to the midday pot of medications. I rang the number on my landline for the Carer and handed him the handset. We got the usual option making and then through to Music-‘All we ask is respect for our Agent as they deal with your problem’ -Music- to Music-‘All we ask is respect for our Agent as they deal with your problem’ Back to Music, All we ask is respect for our Agent as they deal with your problem’ – back to Music… What the phone call cost me, I don’t know or want to know. Within 25 minutes, someone answered the phone. Carer handed me the phone to confirm who I was, and gave permission for the Carer to handle things. Then we were put through to another department – ‘All we ask is respect for our Agent as they deal with your problem’ -Music- to Music-‘All we ask is respect for our Agent as they deal with your problem’ Back to Music, All we ask is respect for our Agent as they deal with your problem’ – back to Music… the Carer had wandered out into the hallway again when a voice came on, I beckoned him, and he got on the phone. Talked for a few minutes, answering questions, and declared that someone would be with us within 24 hours. At least we had a bit of success with a problem for once. 👍🏻😃 I avoided going into Smug-Mode!
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I realised how well I’d come on as the morning progressed. I’d still like to know what caused the mind-body confusion in the first place. I even remembered the Care Navigator Lady telling me to call the QMC, NHS Trust, or Control number to ask who to speak to about the problem of the lack of information given to me when I had to go in to have the hooked-Catheter fitted. I couldn’t find where I’d written the number down, so I looked it up on Google. 0115 924 9924. And rang it at 12:10hrs, it was engaged. 12:20hrs, it was engaged. 12:30hrs, it was engaged. I got on with this blog and tried again at 12:50hrs; it was engaged. I got through at 12:55hrs. Explained the problem, and the lady said I needed the Neurology Ext and would put me through to it. I asked her for the number in case I had to ring back: Ext 78331 Neurology. It rang and rang, rang & rang… I gave up. I kept trying on and off for another hour. Ringing but no answer.
Why was I not surprised?
I needed to know about changing the new hooked Catheter day bag. How often? Can the carers do it? The new array of tube holders looks collapsible. Does anything need changing on that? The plaster underneath the array says that it needs Alcohol to remove it? How do I get some, and where from? The plaster has fallen off of its own accord after two days. I’ve used finger plaster strips to try to contain it, but each has detached. Any advice on its importance? I am still using the regular night bags. Is this okay? Is my going to QMC A&E with any problems still apply? Is there a Heaven with St Peter’s gate? Will my Grim Reaper be able to help with these questions?
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Speedy Response From NCC Electrician
The next event was the arrival of an NCC electrician to investigate the hot water failure. At this point, why, how, I don’t know… I recalled the problem I am/was/am having with the British Gas Oligarchs. And before the gentleman started, I told him of the problem with the British Gas guys not allowing me on the site, and Ejaz doing his absolute best the one time we got on. He spent ages and ended up getting instructions on how to solve the issue. The layout was not like the one she said. The lad sent them photographs of the meter. Finally, on that call, a lady asked me, “Do you want me to send an engineer to look at your meter?” I replied, “That would be super-dooper, that’s what we’ve been asking for for over an hour!” But no one came. Unless, of course, because I spent so much time in the hospital, 3 days, 4 days and then five weeks, do you think they may have called then?
The electrician agreed that this could be the problem. The meter I had was unique for two reasons: it is over 15 years old, and it is the only one like it in the 650 flats at Winwood Heights! He said he would phone his boss to see if they could apply some pressure. Great!
He got the booster on, said it’s best to use it each day, and showed me how to apply it. I will take a while to heat up, but you might be able to have a wash and shave now if you find out when it is at its hottest, estimating 45 minutes after pressing the booster. Summat else to add to the confusion in my brain. The Carer came back, then left again. Having said that… I was amazed that after such an incomprehensibly bad start to the day, I was seemingly at the sharpest I’ve been for months mentally. The body had not improved much, though, recalling the need to phone the NCC and Neurology for advice, and of course, remembering the British Gas git’s problems, etc.
Now I foolishly entered a full Smug Mode!
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Tried Again To Reach The Hospital
Gotten Himmel, and Good Heavens!
I got through to the switchboard on the sixth try!
The lady asked me which extension I wanted. I remembered that Ext 78331 was the one I needed, and the phone was answered within two minutes.
I fumbled a bit verbally, trying to explain to her what I needed, since it was a new bent-end Catheter and I was unsure where to take it off, as it had a different layout. Many questions but no advice. After she’d had enough of me, she said she’d call the District Nurses. I told her it was nurses who gave me your number to ring!
Not the most usefull phone call. Incidentally, the Patient Navigator also gave me her number.
Now I don’t know whether she called the nurses, and I still don’t know how to change the pouch safely. Or if the swatch dropping off is important?
And, it’s due to be changed today.
Another Problem Joins The List!
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Looking back at the above, I may have gotten the chronological timing wrong. The facts are okay.
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Third visit of the day to the Porcelain Throne. What an odd pattern! Conrad is in charge of the first, Trotsky is in charge of the second. And for the third, Constipation Konrad was right back in charge of the proceedings!
I was amazed there was no bleeding.
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I stuck to getting this blog advanced, but realised the boost to the hot water must be about to stop, so went for a shave and a wash, and did the teggies. Back soon, I hope. Turned on the boost on the meter.
What a busy day!
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Carer Andrew came, which stopped me from shaving & washing. He paingelled the shoulder and legs for me, issued medications, and we looked at the new Catheter against the old ones. We think it might be safe to use them, but we are not certain. Hopes of a Nurse calling are fading as teatime arrives.
Now I’ll go back to the wet room and see if the water is hot enough to shave, a lot of stubble to remove.
Back in a bit, or longer.
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Two Hours later: I’m back.
The boost button warmed the water, but not enough to shave in, so I had to boil the kettle to add to the barely warm water. I can’t tell if I didn’t give the boost long enough or gave it too much time before running the tap.
In the wet room, I found some marks on some fingers, and got the scrubbing brush and bleach on them, as they were stubborn, in fact, impossible to get off.
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I tried to get some sleep, but, just like the last three nights, it only came with a few short nod-offs, and I was springing awake again. Getting fed up with this.
I got up at around 02:30hrs, and after struggling but 
managing to remove the Nocturnal Catheter pouch and put the PPs on, I got on the computer.
I noticed that I was getting a little slow, and the concentration was ebbing at times. I had an email from Jenny, & when I scrolled to reply to it, I could not find it! I think I responded to all she mentioned. Bless Her.
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I got this updated to hear, and posted it on WP.
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Inchie: Sunday 31st August 2025
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I’m worried about the Grim Reaper,
Not visited in August, now it’s September!
Has something changed his agender?
Last we met, he spoke of a nymph named Rusalka,
A female creature who seeks souls not after…
death, but before, & ferry them to Purgatory,
Each is an illegal immigrant soul-gatherer,
They come in dreams, offering virgins for a fiver,
The Virgin Goddess of the Hunt, Dziewona,
I’ve missed my designated soul-collector,
He was straight-talking, no verbal garniture,
For my last day, he promised me fresh golonkowa…
With sourdough bread & pickled cucumber,
I thought a moment ago that I could smell vinegar,
He said he’d get me in a cell with souls of kvetchers,
He guaranteed to keep me safe from Herr Starmer,
And his lies, bullying and moratoria…
I couldn’t have asked for better…
Me, a mentally-challenged failed rhymester,
When I die, decease, perish, & meet St Peter,
I leave this mortal coil, led by my Grim Reaper,
He will try to become my permanent Carer,
It’s love, I think, though it sounds macabre,
Gawd, I hope he wasn’t a leg-puller!
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She was still shaking when I stirred at 06:15 hours. (Another late one). That might teach me not to shoulder-charge the wetroom door frame… at least, not so often. I had to 
laugh at myself when I reached down to retrieve the nocturnal catheter bag for emptying – it showed I was still on edge from yesterday’s mishaps. I used my left hand to hold the shoulder in case she had loosened the joint with her overnight rattling and shudderings. Haha! Now, a laugh upon waking may be a sign that things will go better today. Mind you, look what happened to Hitler when he attacked Russia.
Very few photos and news on the blog today. I must try to at least complete yesterday’s blog. If I have the time, I need to complete the 30 templates for September. I know, not a cat-in-hells chance. But I must at least try.
Oh, no, just remembered I can use Jetpack, like I did last month. I did it in half the usual time. Now, if only I could remember how I did it. Never mind, there are still unknown challenges to come. Do I sound a smidgeon pessimistic?
First kitchenette shot
Evacuation Conrad Constipation Controlled.
Carer Nimra. Body Check.
Some new blood-filled swelling was spotted.
They were not painful, but Nimta called the Community Nurses. They will send someone to inspect the area. Later decided Monday, not today. This will be no problem.
Amazingly, I completed the templates in record time, despite dealing with numbers.
Morning snap
Seizures are getting frequent. I spent ages in repeated recovery times, doing nothing.
Afternoon…
cloud…
photos.
Hours & hours doing blogs.
TTFN
Inchy’s Ode: Today: Sunday 29th June 2025
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AS I TYPED INSTANT MEMORIES…
Starting with Nelson Cigarettes,
I stopped smoking when they went up to 3/6!
Packs of ten, up to 1/9d, I went to the chemist,
To get something, to stem my baccy addiction,
Lozenges & tablets cost me a fortune!
I’d run out of them by later that afternoon,
Polo mints were cheaper, so I bought a carton,
A week later, off to the dentist in Carlton,
I still needed to stop my baccie attraction…
I overate and increased my aggression,
For unknown reasons, I suffered constipation,
Alcohol was not an acceptable substitution,
I tried nibbling carrots, dipped in vinegar,
My skin went Orange, the doc called it carotenemia,
It took me yonks to beat my addiction,
I could take months was the Doctor’s prediction,
Offering me tablets, a sort of antidepressant,
The pangs eventually lessened,
I was again feeling benignant,
Regained control, became again complaisant,
But it cost me my body, growing so corpulent!
STUCK IN THE LIFT ON A SUNDAY!
It could happen to anyone, any day,
This day it was the turn of Inchy…
He pressed the alarm button quickly,
Noticed his catheter bag filling promptly,
He hoped the engineer would get there speedily,
His innards rumbled; his bowels may self-empty!
The lift cage shook as it inched up, jerkily…
T’was the fire Brigade, his mobile did tinkle
The voice sounded like he was using a swozzle,
His hearing aid batteries died. What a muddle!
Heard nothing, but thought I might be in trouble,
Instructions being given were inscrutable,
And his catheter bag was now so very, very full!
The inching the lift up, at this rate, it would be April…
Before I’d be rescued, thinking irrationally, silly,
Hours later came the shaming… it was terrible,
They got the lift door open, 2ft of space available,
To physically pull my mass up, all they could do,
Then leant in, and dragged me up and through…
To the flat I almost flew,
Emptied the catheter, what a phoo!
Trotsky Terence’s evacuation, which was well overdue,
Needed to thank whoever lifted me out of the lift, though,
Nice chap, his name was Angelino.
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I was busier overnight than I’ve been in years.
I think I addressed this in the last blog; I nearly bored you with more of the same. Phew! The amount of sleep I got is easy-peasy to work out.
Zilch, None, Zero, Ninguno, Keiner, Dim, Nessuno!
Falling to sleep now! Huh!
Decent colour
What an ablutioning and medicalisationing visitation this morning. Go wrongable? It did! Huh!
I got some soapy, disinfected water in the bowl without any 
. Then the need for the Porcelain Throne arrived in a bit of a hurry… !!!
A 
controlled evacuation, which exited at the speed of a torpedo, followed by the usual splurty detritus. Cleaning it up with all the bending needed gave new life & vigour to 
and 
. It also took me that long to clean up, so that the water in the bowl had gone cold. No problem, you say? Just empty it and refill it, you say? Well, it was for me! 
I made a right mess dropping the bowl as I was tipping it into the sink. I didn’t clean it up; my EQ told me not to bother. As I was refilling it with a jug from the sink tap, the jug shot out of my neurotic grip and joined the cold, disinfected water on the floor! Of course, I just laughed this off and tucked into the painful job of mopping up and drying 
the floor and mats. (Huh!)
Then, refilled the bowl with the same things and started to have a shave. (Yes, the blood flowed freely, but not voraciously!) Then, the door chime 
rang out, and Carer Manpreet came in. There I was, starkus, with blood streaming down my head… I had to ask Manpreet to pass me a pair of PPs as I’d run out of them in the wet room. Which she did. I was given the medications, and Manpreet cleaned th
e wound on my right hand where I’d trapped it in a kitchen drawer the other day. The feet seemed a lot 
less filled with oemeba fluids, but they soon refilled again as the day went on… and on, and on. I may not sound happy this morning, there are a few reasons for that. Losing Carer Joe, being the main one. As soon as Manpreet departed, I scurried back into the wet room to continue finishing the shaving.
Of course 
, the water for washing the feet had gone cold again!
As is my way, I carefully emptied the bowl and refilled it without incident. 
I knew I shouldn’t have fallen into a state of smugness. 
As I began to finish shaving, I’d forgotten about the cuts earlier and swiftly added to the total. Which, as Carer Manpreet had said earlier, added to about twelve. Not now, it’s now sixteen, as far as I can gather. These, along with the three in gash from the other day, make me want to take the advice of Tim Price, and go ‘caveman!’
To the medication of the body’s various departments in need. I started with 
what I would usually leave till last. Little Inchies fungal lesion ointmentating. I was trying to be careful with the dropper… but dropped it! What a Plonker! 
It is only a tiny bottle, but all the liquid flowed away on the floor before I could get 
down to retrieve it… Banging my hand wound on the corner of the floor cabinet! I wiped it and put some Germolene on 
the thenar space this time, with a plaster. A good job; I keep some medications in stock for emergencies, just in case of any accidental injuries, falls, or walking into a door. Tsk!
Then 
they were cleaned, creamed and treated.
As far as here, and could do nothing for hours. 
Made infinitely worse because each bout from
brought me back to semi-reality. And I couldn’t concentrate enough to do anything!
It was nearly going bonkers. I may have had a few times when returning to life, recovery took longer each time. Late in the night, the Seizures faded.
I made a meal ASAP in case the seizures returned.
MEAT FEAST TONIGHT
Carer Mizra came as I was washing the pots.
This evening view caught his eye.
I settled in after washing the pots and sat in the second-hand, charity shop-bought recliner that was £300, broken down, with a catheter tube crunching, dried blood-covered, grotty, dirty, and creaking frame, and fell asleep while watching the box. I stayed in it, as the Seizures and Colin Cramps had not bothered me, and might do if I got up to climb into the bed: Cunning, eh?
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May your Woes Weaken, & your Mojo Grow!
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Inchy Today: Tuesday 13th May 2025
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SMUG-MODE ENGAGED
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Thinking!
Thinking back, I began to hallucinate,
Here, giving me a cuddle, was Auntie Kate,
I guess I beginning, starting to levitate…
Floating back in time, young again, lanate,
Grizelda began to maxilate…
Fondle, hugging me, & to mussitate,
We did things considered misappropriate,
Guilt? I no longer felt, nor was I novitiate,
Freedom, my thoughts no longer obdurate,
Physical ailments began to obfuscate,
Gawd, this illusion is super-great!
Am I dead? A ghost, or maybe a wraith?
Am I being given a forecast or a prophecy?
Am I dead or alive? I viewed this whimsically,
May I be en route to see St. Peter?
I’ve paid my debts! Rent or electricity,
Why do I sense that I’m feeling guilty?
Is this a dream, a seizure or a Whoopsie?
Griselda is still toying pleasurably with me,
I no longer feel elderly, tired or weary!
Under my bed is now a guzzunder,
I’ve not seen one of these since 1953,
What year is it? I don’t feel at all distressingly?
The sky and globe have turned all yellowy…
Opaque, angels, pink clouds, worryingly…
St. Peter has not yet greeted me!
Am I getting sillier? I feel more cheerier!
Is this an end-of-life bamboozler?
Wherever I am, it feels cosier,
I suppose it should, being free of Starmer?
Yes, I must have died; I’ve never been happier,
Oh, here’s a transparent cheerleader…
Glittering eyes, big bust, much curvature,
Ah, she’s just been attacked by Grizelda,
Maybe because she gave me a sly twire?
Heaven or Hell, I feel much toeier…
No bother from Gladys Glaucoma,
Arthur Itis, Shaking Shoulder or Anne Gyna,
Grizelda’s back, with handcuffs and a tether…
Prompting movement in the tallywhacker!
Well, I’m interested and acquiescing,
A billion-long queue of souls is forming,
Grizelda & me at the end, that’s galling,
It’s for St. Peter’s gate, I’m assuming,
For questioning and allocating…
Heaven or Hell’s door selecting?
Grizzly said, there’s a third door we might be using!
I asked for what? This is so confusing,
That’s for souls picked to be returning…
The answer was more than terrifying,
Sent back to earth, that’ll be intimidating!
For those chosen, Starmer will be waiting,
Still be cheating, lying, stealing & killing…
I suddenly came out of my daydreaming,
Starmer is still in power; it’s heartbreaking!
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This morning, I kept waking up at 04:00hrs.
Repeated this action endless times before nodding off again into a deep sleep.
I was woken up at about 07:30hrs. By Carer Ejaz. Who told me it had taken him about ten minutes to wake me up! I swiftly fell asleep again. Ejaz was concerned when I sat up and grabbed my lower belly in response to aches and pains. None were awful, but they remained for a few hours after Ejaz had gone.
As Ejaz was issuing the medications, apparently, I nodded off again!
I did not move from the bed during Ejaz’s visit. He 
removed the nocturnal catheter bag and applied Barrier cream to the leg-strapping wounds. They were much less bothersome and painful this morning. Being in bed for such a long time 
made the base of my sternum far more sore than it was yesterday, but the wounds looked better. Ejaz took this photo of the catheter contraption for me. I got the diabetic socks put on for me. Ejaz lost some time with having to rouse me. And I had to shoot off; I’d not moved during his visit.
When Ejaz left, I fell asleep yet again! Hence, there was little time to catch up or much photographicalisation today.
When I finally gingerly got up on my feet, my stomach ache steadily improved. But my concentration was not good at all.
I got on the computer, and the catheter pouch filled shortly after. When I went to empty it, the tube on the release valve was not there, making many messy emptyings throughout the day. I searched the flat, thinking it must have come off when Ejaz emptied it. He usually does not take it off. Sometimes, he’ll put it on. After failing to find the tube, I thought he might have pulled it off when he removed the nocturnal bag. He then put it in the kitchen rubbish bag, which has since been put down the waste chute. So, I’ll struggle on. Let’s face it, I’m good at struggling. Hehehe!
I was prepping to get today’s Ode started. But feeling better in myself now. Then… 
I found I’d left the damned hot water tap running again. How many times in two days? Three, I think!
A massive vagueness overcame me. It stayed visiting me until about 16:00hrs. It was in full flow when Carer Joe called around 13:15hrs. I’m unsure what we spoke about other than Joe’s plans to start sorting the clothes in the junk room tomorrow. So, maybe there will not be a blog for tomorrow, for the first time since I was in hospital in 2007. I think, but thinking is no longer a strong point for me. Hehe!
I took this snap on the left from the kitchenette window. I remembered to cause 
I knocked a jar of mushroom ketchup off the window ledge, and it landed on my 
.
Not that it bothered me at all. I merely laughed it off 
and started singing to myself.
Then, I took another memory, prompting a snap of my beloved tree copse. I may have used the wrong photo here, or the computer posted the wrong one? Anyway, taking this snap hurt 
me more than the toe incident.
Then I realised that the sun covering Khagoule had fallen into the water jug on the floor.
So, I had to hang it on the shower curtain in the wet room to help it dry out. I 
also turned on the heater to encourage it to dry.
I visited the Porcelain Throne as well. Trotsky Terence was in control.
It was a messy job that took a long time because there was no hot water. Did I mention I’d left the hot tap running earlier?
The sun died temporarily while I was fetching water from the kettle, and walking with the walking stick was a bit risky.
I got some potatoes into the slow cooker that I forgot to tell you about earlier. 08:00hrs approximately) There are no secrets on this WordPress blog, Inchy Today!
I’m back on this blog after checking, updating and posting yesterday’s post to WordPress. Then, I started on this post.
I’ll check the potatoes. This is going to be a long job. Turn them (if ready), put them in the basin, bash them up, add no-butter butter, sea salt, Worcestershire, and Soy sauce, and then the tricky bit: grate and mix in Leicester cheese. Put the mixture in the oven and cook until the top has crispened. Prep[ping took me 35 minutes, and the washing things up after took me over half an hour.
I pray I don’t let them burn… Please!
It took me hours to get the potatoes sorted and mashed with the shredded Leicester cheese and red onions. I found evidence in the morning, blood on the fridge door that indicated a cut thumb or fingernail) I washed the pots and put the dish into the oven to crisp it up nicely. This usually takes a good half-hour. Here it is before cooking.
Carer Joe arrived as I was putting it in.
Medications issued. Joe said we would start sorting out tomorrow in the junk room. He’ll take the laundry down to the washer, come back, and we can sort the clothes out. This will free up many coat hangers. Because there are so many trousers, jumpers, shirts, and coats that no longer fit me. They don’t call me Mr Blobby for no reason, you know. Haha! He should have time to nip down, get the laundry in the dryer, and dry it for once. Joe’s got it all organised beforehand, which is a great help.
The potatoes were removed from the oven and put on a tray with some bread. I added some cut tomatoes, and I settled into the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966, moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not-working recliner to watch an episode of my favourite, ‘Heartbeat’, on the TV to eat the meal.
It took me a while to eat it all, but I did!
Then, heaven… Zzz!
Carer Ejaz woke me up two hours later.
He removed my diabetic socks and mended the nocturnal catheter-damaged day bag. He also added a tube from another point to the current one. I checked the kitchen and bathroom and got my head down, but I forgot to put the nocturnal catheter pouch on. It’s hard to believe, I know.
So, when I was woken up by the pain from poor Little 
Inchie being tugged on with the weight as the pouch filled up, I had to get up to empty the pouch post-haste. Could I get back to sleep? No! 
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But it didn’t Bother Me, Hehe!
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