Tuesday, Tuesday the 25th of January and its a day I need to get up as I have my work one to one early, well early for me. I have breakfast and settle into my place on the sofa and log onto work. We get started on the nuts and bolts and catching up with with items about contact and me bring my manager up to speed with the conversations I have had with services and service managers. With all of that out of the way I tell my manager what I am thinking about the future and my place in it, I explain that I am having conversations about stopping working. I tell her that I am thinking about stopping either on my birthday in July when I am 74 or at the end of the year. It will depend in part on the outcome of my next oncology review in February and the conversations that follow on from that. I think I have had enough, I want to rebalance the home time so that my partner gets more time to do the things she wants to do as well as working full time and I get to garden and write. It seems a more equitable and reasonable way for us to spend the rest of the time we have. There is a limit to how long I can usefully make a contribution to the work and it might be time for younger, more energetic people to do the work. My manager takes it well and very reasonably so it remains to be seen how things work out, but movement is on the way.

I finish the session and then do some of the inevitable admin work that follows. A friend calls and we chat for ten minutes before we go our separate days to tackle the remains of the day. At lunch time my partner and I walk the village and pick a paper and some food. It is in effect a walk around the block but it blows the cobwebs away. we lunch together and of course I do the crosswords as usual. My partner goes back to work and I go to the Shed. I sit and write a letter at my desk with the candles lit, the heater on and the radio playing in the background. I’m almost out of pretty writing paper and need to order some before I hit “no spend February” or at least “no Amazon February”. I write my letter and contemplate the garden around me. Its a cold afternoon and I abandon the Shed and take a walk over to the post box, putting the bin out as I return. Its getting dark and colder by the minute but I decide that I need to train and get myself into my kit and into the garage. I row for half am hour. I burn 481 calories and travel 7405 metres. I’m tired by the end of the session and sit on the sofa to record it and to rest. We eat tea at 7 o’clock and I settle to watch a film while my partner goes to bathe. The film winds on as does my tiredness until I can no longer do sitting around and go to bed knowing that tomorrow I shall be attempting to complete my tax return on line. What could possibly go wrong?

Wednesday I wake groggy, It seems to take me longer these days to get myself going in the morning. I go down stairs for coffee and my meds. It is time to refill the drugs wallets for the next two weeks. So for a short time I empty pills into the requisite receptacles. It is a fortnightly ritual that prompts me to check that I have booked the GP appointments I need for my blood tests and my monthly injection. Having stowed my meds I get ready to go to the gym. I’ve decide to get to the gym this morning as this afternoon the office is free and I intend to do my tax return.

I drive to the gym and buy my usual bottle of water on the way to the changing rooms. I am on my favourite cross trainer and work steadily for an hour, burning 705 calories and going 8.28 kilometres. Its a good session, better than I expected. I shower and return to the lunge where I order a double bacon brioche and large black americano. Its a real pleasure eating a breakfast not made by me even if it is 12 o’clock. I devour with joy and then drive home. My partner goes to visit her mother with her brother. As soon as she is gone I head for the office clutching an accounts book and paper work. I start to complete the entries, checking my invoices and doing the sums. I eventually feel confident enough to log onto the tax website. Thank god my machine remembered my ID and password. Of course all the info about my pensions was already there so all I have to add in is my income and deductions. The system eventually churns out a calculation, which includes an upfront payment for the next tax year. I baulk at this and argue for a reduction. I submit my assessment and will wait for them to do their 72 hour calculations and send me a demand for the money. At least I have submitted on time. This year I will submit in April as soon as possible. However I am now feeling the relief of having got it done.

My sister rings me so I spend time talking to her as I potter about clearing away my tax paraphernalia. She is in fine form and is going to send me a book. Another reason to stop working, my backlog of books is growing rapidly and reading time is minimal at the moment. My call finishes, I’ve cleared away my stuff and settle on the sofa suddenly tired. There is a football match on TV that I stare at until my partner returns, tired. We eat tuna pasta, I get my washing folded and I start the blog while we watch “The lost Daughter”. Its Olivier Coleman being just brilliant. It will be another early night for me as I have a work team meeting first thing in the morning and then I have preparation to do for a support visit to a therapeutic community on Friday.

Monday and I wake up after what feels like a crap night although my fitness tracker is saying I’ve slept for 9 hours. That is quite concerning because I feel tired and like I have not slept. I get my phone and start my days to do list in bed, my partner brings me a coffee I book next Mondays injection at the GPs, check my prescription order and see what e-mails I’ve got. I check WhatsApps and get myself up. Jeans or loungers? Its a crucial decision. If I go for loungers I could be in them all day and that would be a disaster. I go for jeans and just to try and get myself up for the day I pack my training kit.

A second coffee to take my drugs with and then when I go into the lounge I find my partner has bought me presents and a card. Its the second anniversary of our civil partnership ceremony. Two years ago 17 days after I ended chemo we had our ceremony. I was fat and bloated from steroids and glad to be over the treatment, but it was crucial we were legal and my affairs in order as we did not know how long I had. We still don’t. Apparently a second anniversary is a cotton one. I have cotton scented candles to put in the Shed. I have not bought anything, perhaps my memories of that time get in the way. In September we will have been together for 40 years! That is an anniversary I will not forget.

I’ve just about surfaced when a friend calls who is on the way to Ikea to get chairs. We chat for a time about managing energy and making decisions about what is a priority and what cannot wait. We chat until she arrives at Ikea and goes off in search of what is on her list. I continue to get ready to go to the gym when a work colleague rings me up. We talk about work and how we are both managing it and our future plan for it. Its all about balance, what we want to do and what we have got time to do. Both of us are retired from full time work but both are doing stuff while our partners are still working. I am thinking seriously about what I want to do adn how I want to spend my time so that it balances the time both my partner and I have to do what we want to do. Its a useful conversation and reminds me that I need to have more thinking time. By the time we finish our conversation its bout 12 o’clock and I still have not eaten so I have some soup while my partner adn eldest daughter go for a lunchtime walk.

I finally get away to the gym, and I am feeling very unlike a gym session. I get a large bottle of water and head for the changing rooms. The one good thing about training in the day is that there is room in the changing rooms with only a light sprinkling of the foul mouthed macho arseholes whose brains have yet to ripen. So I change and get up on the floor of the gym. I cross train and do an hour. Its a grim experience, I feel crap and cannot get going, but I grind out the hour. I burn 693 calories and travel 7.26 kilometres. Its an average session and it will do. I use a weights machine briefly and then descend to the showers. I dress and get to the lounge and grab a sofa and a large black americano. On checking my phone I am surprised to get a message to say that Tesco are not going to delivery our order today due to a problem with our bank card. I start to phone and get to talk to folk and at the same time move money to the right account. By the time my local branch gets through to me I have sorted out any problem so when the branch agrees to rerun my order it goes through without any more problems. An interesting interlude while I recover from my session. I finally leave and drive home.

I drink another coffee, light the fire and hunker down to get warm. I do the days crosswords and then watch early evening TV. We eat tea and watch TV during the evening and I start the blog early with the intention of getting an early night. So here I am at ten o’clock working my way towards my bed. Perhaps time to start to read pre sleep. Tomorrow I have a work meeting and then I will need to make the effort to train again. This feels like a long haul and I remind myself that my immediate focus is my oncology review on February 22nd. I feels like the out come will have a large in fluence on what I decide to do about work and my life balance.

Saturday and its the day to travel to the great smoke in the south, London. Todays the day the Arvon writers course gets together. So I am up and packing an overnight bag and my back pack, which I stuff my laptop in and a couple of bottles of champagne, real champagne not the Italian fizzy muck which appears to be all the rage. Actually it makes no difference to me as I do not drink since my Jamaica adventure but I like to see others enjoy what I no longer can. Before getting busy with any of the travel preparations and breakfast I decide to weigh myself as I will not be home tomorrow morning my usual weigh in time. So I pop into the bath room and step up onto the scales feeling confident that all the effort I’ve put in all week will have paid dividends. I am bitterly disappointed; 93.8 Kilos, almost exactly the same as last week. I wonder why I bother. Start again Monday.

We eat breakfast, clear the house as much as possible and then pack the car. There is time to catch the first half of a football match and then my partner and I hit the road. The drive is amazingly clear and to my surprise we do not get directed off at the M25 but carry on into London and then around the north circular. God how boring is that I’m turning in to an old bloke. Anyway by the wonders of Satnav we arrive at our Muswell Hill B & B and get shown to our room. We have coffee, change and then at the right time we walk, yes I know, walking in London is pretty brave especially in the dark, to our hosts house. We of course used google maps, aren’t they wonderful, magical talking maps.

The evening is a lovely experience. We sit and eat and drink and catch up with each other. We want to know what each other has been doing since the course and the most import piece of information is whether we have all continued writing. Our host provides lovely food and an environment that is rich in culture, cultures and kindness. So we chat and eat and enquire of each other and then we move to the lounge upstairs. Here we settle down and read to each other. I and my partner read our latest poems. One reads a brilliant start to an Hilaire Belloc type cautionary tale, another reads an extract from her book. Another reads extracts from a short story, another part of her novel. Yet another reads the next chapter from her spikily observant book and the final contribution is a tale of mythical being. Each contribution is discussed and we give and receive feedback. There is lively debate and the stories are explored. It is a rare and lovely experience. Eventually it is time for for people to leave and we slowly disperse. One of the group is in an AirBNB on our route back so we walk with her till our paths divide. As my partner and I walk some bloke walks up and say “Hello my name is Roland”, what are the odds eh? Of course he wants money, I explain to him that I have none because I’m all plastic. He is bemused and wanders off. We continue to walk back to our B&B and then we see a fox! Walking down the road like it owns the place. Really, we travel from the county that has a fox as an emblem adn find one in Muswell Hill.

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We watch the fox trot off and then make our way to the B&B where we go to bed and lay awake with the evening going around in our heads. I have a head full of different “voices”. Such talented people all with their own unique voice reflecting their internal universes and how they make meaning of he world. A choir of meaning.

Sunday and I wake in a strange bed to the sound of my Eric Sartie alarm. Our breakfast is delivered to our room by the masked host. We eat a very healthy continental breakfast washed down with lashings of fresh coffee. Then we are off on a clear Sunday morning while the vast majority of the capital is still slumbering. The drive home is remarkably swift so by lunchtime I am tucking into a bacon bagel and settling down to televised rugby matches. My day drifts by as I watch the games, eat tea and give myself up to TV and the writing of the blog.

I find myself tired, which is why there is not a lot of what I want to say about the get together in detail. It is a group of incredibly talented and educated people who it is difficult to do justice to in a blog. However the evening has reinforced my thoughts about stopping doing some of my work things to make time to actually focus on the stuff I am writing. Perhaps the Poetry Coyote needs time to be.

Friday and I have no meetings so I attend to my emails and messages before getting up. When I do I have a muesli breakfast and clear the kitchen. I decide to go to the gym and get a cross training session in before I go to London tomorrow. On the way I prep the car for tomorrows journey. and then arrive at the gym. I go through my usual routine of changing and finding a machine and then put in an hour session. I burn 707calories over 7.63 kilometres. That’s a reasonable session at this time in my cycle. I spend some additional time on the weights machines, I have neglected my core recently and need to add to my aerobic programme.

I shower and settle in the lounge with a coffee as I wait for my omelette to arrive. I send some messages, eat my food adn then leave for home. On the way I pick up chocolates and drink to take to tomorrows reunion. Once home I dump my training kit and make a couple of work calls. Once I have the work stuff done I check the bird feeders and the squirrel box filling both. I also check the hedgehog canteen but none of the food has been taken so I guess my Schrodinger hog is just that at the moment. I relax with a coffee and do the days crosswords. And so my day bleeds into the evening with an Indian takeaway and TV until I am on my own with the blog and Jason Bourne.

I doubt there will be time to write a blog tomorrow, Saturday. So tomorrow is an adventure in the capital, and I wonder if meeting people again will be as pleasurable as it was meeting them for the first time.

Thursday 8:45 and in 15 I’m due in a meeting. Me the screen and a coffee dead on 9 o’clock. I spend two hours in the meeting and talking with colleagues. It productive and also a good connection. Once I am off screen I do some work admin and then settle down to a dish of chicken soup. My partner and I go for a stroll round the village to pick up a paper and grapes before a light lunch. Just a normal day in the life of a prost8kancerman. Its so normal as to be surreal.

I have an energy spurt, rare recently, and before I know it I am changed into work clothes and I out on the drive cleaning the cars. The cars have become so dirty it is difficult to remember what colours they actually are. After a prolonged splashing and sploshing, drying and shining they are done. I finish the finer details and then I change and head for the sofa and a football match. Dinner comes around my favourite Thursday tuna pasta. Normally I slip into an evening of tired TV but tonight as my partner does her singing lesson I bite the bullet, change into my training kit and head for the garage to row for half an hour. Its a real effort but I keep reminding myself that cancer doesn’t take a day off so I can’t, stick to the plan is the plan.

I finish the session, record it and then get sofa’d to watch the end episodes of Stay Closer, while I write the blog.

Wednesday and my partner brings me an early coffee to get me moving. I check my mail and messages. I finally get up, pack my training kit and have another coffee to take my medication with. Then I am off to the gym. I get my usual locker and get on to the gym floor. There are very few of us so I have my pick of machines. I choose my favourite cross trainer, select random on my i-pod and begin my session. The time goes quickly and before I know it I have burnt 701 calories and travelled 6.45 kilometres. The speed with which the hour has passed feels like a sign that my fitness is improving. At the end of the cross training I spend some times working my upper body on the weights machines. I shower and retreat to the club lounge to drink coffee and eat an omelette. I discover that the work meeting that I was due to attend at 2 o’clock has been cancelled due to the chairs illness. The result is that I can be more relaxed for the rest of the day.

I drive home via Sainsburys and pick up some food to top up our fridge after Tesco failed to provide some items at the last delivery. Once home I unpack my kit and sort the days post. I have a new bone scan appointment in February, which I log and put in the diary. I make coffee and take my letter to the Shed to read. I settle down to read when I get a call from a friend who is tending her allotment. We talk about the various family issues related to illness that we are both experiencing. After the call I return to my letter. I write a couple of poems. These came as a bit of a surprise but very timely. The writing course reunion is on Saturday and the host has said that she is looking forward to hearing what we have written since the course. Up until today I had written nothing new apart from letters so my poetry spurt today is welcome. My time has been spent preparing old work for competition and for the poetry coyotes next video.

Night falls and I return to the house and do some work admin. Then there is early evening TV, dinner and football before I start on the blog. Tomorrow starts with a work meeting and then I shall train at the gym. Beyond that the Real World will nag me to do my tax return and wash the cars. Now there is a challenge for the back to work fantasy world of Boris.

Tuesday and once again I wake sluggishly so I go through my emails and messages while in bed as I realise that my partner had gone out and my eldest daughter had gone to work. I get finally get up and have breakfast before putting my washing in the machine and head for the Shed. I spend all morning writing letters. It is cold this morning and it takes a while for the Shed to warm up. I get to lunchtime and my partner adn I walk the village, post my letters and get some birthday cards. We eat lunch together before my partner returns to work and I fold up my washing to put away and change into my training kit. I get a call from a friend who is cat wrangling hers to the vets for blood tests. Whenever I have these sort of conversations it pushes my fantasy about being a dog owner further into the distance.

I head to the garage, mount the rower and set off for an hours row. The garage is cold so I am in full track suit to start with. The session goes surprisingly well and I get into it. An hour later I’ve done a 15 kilometre row, and it feels good.

I return to the house to record my session, eat peanut butter and change into some comfortable clothes for the evening. I slump in front of the TV to watch the world bowls tournament. There is something strangely calming watching mostly old white blokes bowling oval shaped balls down a carpet towards a small white ball to see who can get closest. Dinner and the evening begins, my plan was to watch a football match and then read but I get an email from our next Saturday night host who casually mentions that she is looking forward to seeing us all again and is also looking forward to hearing what we have written since the Arvon course we all went on in November. I am panicking as I have written nothing new since the course. I shall of course find something in myself to take. I have a fantasy that we will become the “Muswell Hill Group” like the Bloomsbury Group, although it is a talented group I wonder if there is a Virginia Woolf, Lytton Stacey or Vanessa Bell amongst us, or even a Vita Sackville-West. Who knows we might even end up with our own Hogarth Press. So I shall watch football and see if inspiration strikes, preferable with something that I can perform. Tomorrow , the gym, work meeting and inspiration seeking.

Monday, and as much I wish I leapt from my bed feeling full of energy and raring to go, I did not. I slugged it out of bed by 9 o’clock and got myself ready to go to the gym but not before clearing the kitchen and emptying the dish washer. I dawdled a while taking a call from a friend who continues to juggle the threat of COVID with a young family and battle with her own long COVID. It is going to be a long haul to retrieve the way of life in which we all thrived before COVID and recover our wellbeing. I then headed for the gym not bothering with breakfast as I train better on an empty stomach.

I get to the gym, buy a bottle of water as usual and then get changed. Its a cross training day so I get on board and start the session. Rammstein sounding extra good this morning and I hit a good groove from the off. Sixty five minutes later and I’m the proud owner of a new personal best. I’m through the 9 kilometres barrier. I go for a shower and then sit in the lounge with a large coffee and an omelette. I like this late breakfast post training, I might do it again.

Back home I go to the Shed but first I check the new hedgehog canteen. I replace the feeding plate and replace with discrete dishes so I can accurately tell what, if anything is being eaten and when. I settle into the Shed, light candles and write letters. I sit happy in my now more well lit Shed until my partner rings me to discuss the evening meal. I close up the Shed and return to the house to do the days crosswords. Dinner follows along with a Tesco delivery. Once everything is stowed we settle down to a couple of episodes of Stay Close but I become disenchanted with the plot line and start to write the blog. I have some things to catch up on, not least reading and watching my new Cirque Du Soleil DVD. Perhaps I shall get round to them soon, they look good.

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Tomorrow is a day for being at home, training in the garage and writing in the Shed. There is a therapeutic community review to prepare for as well and some work meetings. It feels that the knack is to avoid treating things as chores or tasks to be done and ticked off and being satisfied with what I get done and not regret that which doesn’t as there is very little that actually is earth shattering.

Sunday and its weigh in day. I wake about 10 o’clock and get myself off to the scales. I step up and look down in hope.

93.5 Kilos. a decrease of

2 kilos.

I am so relieved that I have lost weight. It means that even with my new medication I can control an important element in my fitness and wellness. It provides me with motivation to keep going. So tomorrow I resume training.

The rest of my day was all rest and chocolate. I did nothing meaningful beyond filling the bird feeders, filling the squirrel feeder, checking the hedgehog canteen and checking the garden camera. No pictures of the hedgehogs but the camera was not in the best place. I reorganise the camera and re-site it. I will check the canteen again and see if my impression that the “insect crumble” has been eaten.

For the rest of the day I lazed, ate chocolate, ate a good dinner, did the Tesco order and watched rugby until the evening when I cleared the kitchen and wrote the blog. I deliciously did nothing intellectual, no reading, no writing, nothing creative, in fact a day of complete slobbery. Tomorrow the grind resumes, so I will be of to the gym in the morning and then to the Shed.

Friday and today my partner and daughter are off to London to see Cirque Du Soleil, but first there is a work meeting to do. A session with one of my services, it goes well as the people there are positive and engaged. As soon as I log off I do the taxi run to the station and drop my partner and eldest daughter off to get their train. I drive to the gym and do an hour on the cross trainer. Its a very tired session and I just about manage to burn 687 calories over 7.12 kilometres. A warm shower and I sit in the club lounge to drink coffee and to eat a chicken fajita salad. I’m feeling very tired at the end of what has been a long training and dieting week. I get myself home and watch rugby while I wait for my new fitness tracker to arrive. It arrives and I am like a kid with a new toy. Like all new toys it takes up my time as I learn its secrets. I finally strap it on and begin a new relationship with a gadget.

I while away the rest of my evening by clearing the kitchen and watching more episodes of the Witcher until its time to take my drugs and take myself to bed. Once in bed I cannot sleep and at one point seriously consider getting up again but persevere until I guess that I finally fall asleep.

Saturday and I finally wake up about 10 o’clock. It again seems that my best time to sleep is in the morning. I look at my new fitness tracker and I am very surprised to see that I apparently I slept for more than 9 hours. I do not think my new gadget can tell the difference between sleep and staring into the darkness. I have breakfast and then put the evening meal into the slow cooker, so by the magic of kitchen gadgets there will be a meal ready in the evening. I settle down to watch the midday football game, which is going well when Amazon unexpectedly deliver my new hedgehog feeding station/house. Rather than bugger about with some sort of home made contraption made from bricks and a cat bed turned upside down I’ve bought a properly constructed feeding box.

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I put some of the dry Prickles hedgehog food on a plate inside the house and place the box next to the point where my hedgehog has housed itself in my green house. I also put out a shallow dish of water nearby. Tomorrow I shall check the camera to see if the hedgehog has been out and about or whether its going to sleep through for longer. From now on I need to check the camera regularly and heck on the canteen to see if any of the food is being eaten. I return to watching rugby until its time to go and collect my partner and eldest daughter from the station. It goes well, drive in easy, short wait and speedy return. We watch our local rugby team win narrowly over an Irish team in the European competition. Game over I go to train in the garage. I row for half an hour. It is a painful and tired session, the last of the week and I am feeling it.

I return from the garage, change and settle down to eat the meal that was put in the slow cooker in the morning. It is very welcome. There is more TV during the evening and I have time to look at the presents that have been brought for me in London.

All of this week comes to nothing if tomorrow when I weigh myself in there is no weight loss. It would be nice to see at least some decrease even if its small. It feels as if I am working against more things at the moment. My anxiety is that my new medication is going to make it more difficult for me to control my weight. It is one of the few things that I feel I have some control over that might affect my cancers progress or not. I can indulge in all sorts of intellectual activities and become different things, like the poetry coyote, but I know that none of this will alter the cell chemistry that is nibbling away at me. It raises the issues of what quality of life actually means to me. It is a question that I return to over and over as things change but there are anchors that fix me and provide the stability. Every one of the anchors are people or people related, but its a fine balance between time to be with them and the time I need to think, reflect and create.