Thursday and I wake up to coffee and Alexa singing me happy birthday. Today I am three quarters of a century old. Many people WhatsApp me to wish me happy birthday. I do my vitals and get up for a bacon sandwich breakfast and to open my cards and presents. There is a bit of time to kill as I am waiting for the oncologist to call me for my review. I read while I wait, Cloud Atlas. At last ” he who made a pact with the devil” rings. He tells me my PSA results, which I already knew and represents a 39% reduction in 20 days on the new drugs. He asks about my blood pressure and I give him some figures. Once again he reinforces his message that I need to train hard to reduce the side effects. He says he will prescribe a new cycle for me and that I can pick them up on the Saturday when I get back. The call finishes and we can get on with my birthday.

I take my partner to the café where we have a cream tea which I augment with a strawberry milkshake. Having indulged, my partner and I go to the crazy golf course. My partner has lost her touch from yesterday but does get a hole and, at which her whoop of joy attracts the attention of all the other folk on the course. We finish the round and then return to the apartment where I read more of Cloud Atlas and do todays cross words. I am incensed that David Mitchell the author of Cloud Atlas has stolen a real life event of a student musician who went to the ageing, blind composer Sibelius and acted as his amanuensis. It is a blatant piece of plagiarism. I shower and my partner and I head off for or restaurant meal.

We pass the fire rescue crew training in the open sea swimming pool. At first I thought there was a crisis occurring but it soon became clear that the team were training.

I indulge myself at the restaurant starting with the worlds biggest prawn salad and ended with a fair size brandy. During the meal my youngest daughter face timed me to wish me happy birthday, nice surprise.

The bill is paid and I and my partner walk back to the apartment where I take my vitals and draft the blog whilst watching Andy Murray battle to a two sets to one lead at Wimbledon. Today has been a good day. Along the way significant steps have been taken to settle my sisters estate and I have had many messages wishing me well. I am pleased that I have started reading again, what remains is to get myself training again. So with three quarters of a century done its on with the next quarter.

Wednesday, what a shit night, I could not sleep and the night hot flushes were grim. Eventually I got some sleep and reverted back to my early morning deep sleeping which meant I finally surfaced at about 10:30. My partner bought me a decaf coffee and I came round enough to do my vitals before a breakfast croissant, yogurt, strawberries and drugs. I check my fitness tracker and find I have plunged below the 100 mark, so apart from a walk down the long beach I will need to find an exercise routine to do today to get my points back up. Not looking forward to that but it is my only weapon against the side effects of the chemo drugs. Onward to the beach then.

An hours walk along the jelly fish strewn beach that is Westward Ho! blows the cobwebs away albeit not as windy as yesterday. Its then back to the apartment for a brief brake before its time for the crazy golf course. There is a queue and several large families already on the course so we decide to have coffee and a large slab of shared chocolate cake before returning to the course. We pay, collect clubs and a score card and set off on our round. I find I am erratic at this sport and loose on both stroke count and holes won. It is all a mystery to me really.

Having done the golf we shop for tonight’s meal before returning to the apartment for coffee and cross words, I discover an App that lets me watch the second half of a football match. England under 21s beat Israel to get into Saturdays final. I draft more of the blog as tea cooks and then settle down to eat and plan an evening. I need desperately to do two things, one, train and two have a bath. That may well be my evening. After all I do not want to go into my birthday smelly.

Tea is eaten and I settle down with my partner to watch TV, Hunted. I clear the kitchen area and draft the blog before showering, taking my meds and going to bed. Tomorrow is my birthday, I will have been alive for three quarters of a century, I do not feel old or irrelevant but I do feel that I am clearer about what my priorities are.

Tuesday the 4th of July and I wake up quietly in the holiday apartment and make myself and partner a warm drink to bring us round. We chat and plan the day before I do my vitals and then set breakfast out. After breakfast and morning meds we do a spot of shopping to top up the larder and to get a pair of size 6 board shoes for my partner. I took the opportunity of adding to the postcard stock on the off chance it might rain. While shopping it is cloudy and threatening.

Back at the apartment we settle down to do the cross words and read the papers before a round of Backpacker. We actually manage a 280 draw. Part of the day plan is a fish and chip lunch so we pop round the corner to the chippy and get our boxed (whatever happened to good old fashioned news paper), fish and chips. We return to the flat and tuck into our lunch. All very seaside holiday.

Post lunch we have drinks and look at the weather, its not conducive to crazy golf at the moment so my partner knits and I watch Wimbledon. We continue to monitor the weather, which is not a positive experience.

Andy Murray wins at Wimbledon, it continues to rain, I take my evening vitals, my partner knits and I draft the blog before taking a couple of paracetamol and having a nap.

There is a picnic tea and then in a burst of energy I and my partner go for a walk along the sea front to blow away the cobwebs. As the sunsets and the breeze gets chilli we return to the apartment and settle down to watch a a film and nibble crisps. I take my night meds and go to bed with the sounds of the waves and rain in my ears. Life is all water, ever changing and flowing.

Monday and I wake up from a deep deep sleep with a bewildered surprise. I am decidedly groggy and wander into the lounge to find my partner already up and reading. My partner makes us breakfast as the wind howls and the rain lashes from the sea. It is England in July after all. I do my morning vitals and take my meds. There is a short trip to the shops to get food for lunch and the evening meal. Before going we collect windproofs from the car, its that kind of day. Having gathered up the food we return to the apartment and stow it away. We then change in to beach clothes, which consist of several layers of windproof clothes.

The walk down to the beach is unsurprisingly people free. When we hit the beach we find we have it to ourselves apart from brave surfers and air surfers plus the RNLI over seeing the heroic few all encased in rubber.

Wind battered we return to apartment to get unwindswept and to eat genuine Devon pasties. There is business to do with the solicitor and the estate agents who are trying to sell the house my sister left in London. There is much toing and froing by email as we collectively try to reach an agreed strategy. My youngest had another scan to day to see how her baby is coming along so there is a long telephone call later in the day. Wimbledon has started so there is a brief period of watching it before we watch the penultimate episode of Crime. We eat a late tea and watch Crime to its conclusion. Not the best series we have ever watched and totally unrealistic, no advert for anything Scottish. I start to draft the blog as we watch a blind comedian visit places around the world. It was interesting what things he connected with and what left him untouched. It demonstrated the indescribability of static wonders of the world like the temple at Petra but the experience of floating in the dead sea was clearly something that made an impression. I take my night meds and go to bed hoping for a calm nights sleep. Tomorrows forecast is thundery showers and a moderate breeze, so ideal weather conditions to start the crazy golf challenge.

Sunday on holiday means I cannot weigh myself. Good in one sense but probably not so good in the longer term as I munch my way through a cream tea for lunch. My day started with doing my vitals and making tea for my partner. A sensible breakfast with morning meds followed and then we went shopping for tonight’s meal. The local vintage car club had lined its cars up on the sea front as an attraction. I could not resist a photo of me with one that is the same age as me to the month.

My partner and I shopped and returned to the apartment to stow food, play the new card game we are learning and then to indulge in another cream tea lunch. We go for our first seaside walk along the burrows behind the pebble ridge that runs the length of the beach. It is a tentative first expedition of the holiday to get the body used to the idea that it is going to be walking for a couple of weeks. On returning to the apartment my intention was to read, or at least try to get myself reading again but I napped. In fact I fell fast asleep and did not wake until gone five o’clock. I woke disorientated and watch athletics on TV. By the time tea was ready I had recovered a little but still had no spoons to do anything other than watch Crime and finally take my meds and drat the blog. So the holiday is underway, so far a breezy, cloudy affair, which I am adapting to. My lack of reading bothers me but I shall work on that. I shall also find a way of doing some exercise to keep the drug side effects at bay. Of course there are always postcards to be written.

Saturday, the first of day of July and the first full day of my holiday in Westward Ho! I wake up quite early and check my emails and messages as usual. My blood results are in. I plot them on my results sheet, a copy of which I was careful to bring with me. The crucial measure is the PSA and the good news is that it has decreased quite markedly given the limited time I have been taking the new chemo drug.

As for the rest of the results they are pretty much in line with my usual profile. My kidney function is slightly up, which is one I always look at given my history of the Jamaican collapse drama in 2019. I have enough Enzalutamide to see me through till the 7th of July, after that I will have to wait until I get back from holiday to start another cycle of it. In the meantime I continue to fight where I can.

I make tea for my partner and take it to her in bed and share the results. I take a a set of vitals and we both move onto have breakfast. We laze for a bit and then we go shopping for food. We do both local food shops to get what we want but cannot locate any zero percent beer. In the last shop we try we find a stack of it and so I am able to stock up. I crave something other than lemon squash, which is what I have been drinking since I gave up coffee because I did not want to aggravate any effect my new medication would have on my blood pressure. I do not drink tea and avoid carbonated drinks (except 0% beer) so I crave new flavours to drink at times when I am thirsty. Next door in the bakers we buy a cream tea in a box and then return to the apartment to unload and play a hand of the card game we are learning. My partner soundly beats me.

We have a cream tea as a late lunch and then go for a walk along the seas edge to the “haunted house” that stands on the edge of the cliff at one end of the resort. I am back in time to watch the second half of the England women’s football friendly against Portugal. Its a draw, during which my partner falls asleep. I start to draft the blog and then take my vitals again. I have noticed after the walk that there is blood in my urine. I suspect that this is a result of the walk. It is possible that walking, like cross training aggravates the situation that we know is worse from the MRI scan I had to assess me for radio therapy. The reason I did not get radiotherapy was because the prostate cancer is too close to the bladder and showing signs of affecting it. I think therefore I am becoming more susceptible to passing blood. I stay well hydrated and flushed and intend to take these two weeks of holiday easy.

The early evening is noisy as the waves roll in at high tide, the apartment door is open as I type and my partner reads the paper on our patio overlooking the sea and the ice cream van.

The evening is all Tacos and Crime on TV washed down with 0% beer. I slowly become spoonless but find myself fighting off hot flushes, the continuing side effects of my 28 day medication. I take my night meds and draft the blog before wearily going to bed. Its been a good first day of holiday. Tomorrow I need to paddle in the waves.

Friday and it up early to shower and get myself to the GP surgery to get my bloods done. Before I go there are my vitals to take. I trot down to the surgery and I am soon in with the nurse. She is an expert and I am out in a flash, lighter by two samples of blood. I go home have breakfast and then load the car. At 10:15 I am on the road with my partner to Westwood Ho!

Five and one half hours later we arrive at our apartment, we open the key safe and are soon inside unpacking our cases and food. It is raining and as we organise it rains harder, in fact is rains progressively harder as the evening goes on. I take my afternoon set of vitals, all good. Having like cats settled in and investigated the apartment we eat a pasta and learn a new card game, Backpacker. Having completed the novices three training open hands we resort back to watching TV before I take my meds, draft the blog and go to bed. I am shattered, which is why the blog is so short and lacks it sometimes more observational content. I am tempted to wait up to see if my blood results come through but I just too spoonless to do do that tonight, it will have to wait till the morning.

Thursday and I wake as the household goes out to work, yep actual out in the real world work. So I check my mail and messages then do my vitals. These are all in order of course. Breakfast follows and then I spring (more lope) into action. My drugs have to be organised for the next two weeks and beyond. My wallets are filled adn extra supplies packed in case we need to stop off to visit the expected new grandson. I take the car to the petrol station and fill it up. Of course I check the tyres. I stock up on wine gums, essential driving aid, and fresh bottles of water. I remember to buy a new flagon of windscreen wash. When home I check the oil and that to is tickity boo. As I am feeling pleased with myself I step out to the village shop to get some holiday cash and find the machine stares blank screenedly at me. I buy treats and a paper then head for the village café .I happily sat doing the crosswords and munching my way through a sausage and bacon baguette. I take my time thinking I am cruising toward my holiday tomorrow.

I get home and settle down to take stock of what needs doing. I gather together some more items to pack and on a visit to the toilet note that it appears not to be flushing at the rate it should. I am a suspicious sort so I get my manhole cover keys and lift the lid. My heart sinks, it is blocked which means I am going to be rodding my drains once again. I gather together my rods, gloves and put on my work gear. I set to rodding with vigour and I pleased that I am able to clear the blockage quite quickly. In doing so I note that the inner seating of the manhole is eroded away and is no longer water tight. So I set about re cementing the affected area. This was the last thing I expected to be doing the day before holiday. I am on my knee trying to apply a new filler layer whilst stuffing old tea towels up one of the inlet pipes to keep things as dry as possible. Once the filler is in place I spend quite some time leaning into the manhole with my partners hair dryer trying to speed up the setting time of the filler. It comes to the point where I just have to leave it for a while.

My attention turns to the garden, in particular the green house where there are some very leggy seedlings. I get to work putting them in to the garden and potting up others. All the time I am conscious that there is a manhole drying, hopefully. Seedlings in I water the garden using my water butt water to ensure there is room in it while I am away. The bird feeders get filled and the squirrel feeder gets topped up. Finally the garden is done so I take a couple of pictures of the new flowers that have come out over the last couple of days.

With the garden sorted as much as it can be I now sort out the car ready for loading. With the wine gums and water stowed and the loading space readied there is no more to be done. The last thing I can do now is check my manhole and remove the tea towel plug from one of the drain pipes. I sense I am running out of spoons so get a move on. I inspect and judge I cannot do any more, so remove my tea towel plug and pop the lid back on.

At last I get to get my work kit off and settle down to tea with the family. I draft the blog knowing I have packing to do to night. My traveling “office” contains all the techno stuff I need to keep going and my journals to record what I do and need, so it is a crucial bag to me. By the end of the evening everything will be ready to be stowed and I shall do my meds and hopefully get an early night as tomorrow I have to be at the GP surgery for bloods, only then can I go on holiday. I hope to be able to keep the blog going.

Wednesday comes along to find me in the spare bed again after disturbed nights sleep. I check my vitals, me emails and my messages then head for breakfast. I’m settling down to do my meter readings when a friend calls on her way back from the dentist. She is clear and now home ward bound to continue her schedule of skill building to over come her long COVID. We say adieu and I get on with my meter reading. I am well chuffed at how low the gas usage is and for once I am happy sending my readings in. Almost immediately they show up on my transactions and I am pleased at the saving made. So is the supplier who is cutting our monthly charge by over a hundred pounds. This is a good win.

By the time I have pottered around doing more packing and preparation for the holiday there is just enough time to interrogate the garden camera to see if my hedgehog is still around. The Jolly news is that he is and also the local cat does not fancy messing with it. I replace the camera in a new position and then have lunch with my partner before she goes off to see her mother. As soon as she has gone I swing into action and gather up my hedge trimming tools. I set to work on the drive hedges that have grown profusely over the last two weeks. I do them by hand because I cannot be arsed to get the hedge trimmer our and mess around with the cables, it proves to be a good way to exercise as I am sweating and breathing heavily. Having finished the hedges I put the tools away and sit for a long time on the swing seat in the back garden. The garden is very green and verdant at the moment and has a very burgeoning feel about it. I like it, I find it comforting and do not feel the need to have it all straight lines and under control. When I settle down on the sofa there is tennis to watch as I fill my journal and begin to draft the blog. My partner returns and we plan to plan the plan for the last minute holiday chores and tasks. I’m still waiting for my last minute emergency twin pack of adult rain packamacs to arrive. The outlook for Devon next week is not a sunny one. I note I have not taken any paracetamol today as yet, which means my regime of only using paracetamol the day before, on and on the day after an injection is being stuck to without any feeling the need to prolong it. My injection site is sore but not pain killer sore, and I seem to have got through my “junkie” like post jab reaction. So its a good day so far.

I decide to train, and go to the garage and set myself up for a 45 minute session. It goes reasonably well and by the end of it I am pretty sure I’ve spent all my spoons for the day.

My partner and I have a late tea and settle down to watch the Great British Sewing Bee followed by some episodes of Above Suspicion. I take my night meds and return to drafting the blog. I am apprehensive about sleeping tonight so even though I am tired I drag my metaphoric feet to bed.

Tuesday and I wake up at 10 o’clock after a torrid night of non sleep or broken sleep. I feel sludgy and dopey. I get up and down a muesli breakfast and cranberry juice. I try to count how many spoons I have for the day but I’m not sure I get the right number, my spoons seems to be small today. I pick a task and try to get on with it. My task: begin to pack for holiday. I set about getting my case out from its hiding place and begin to select the clothes I will take. Part way through I check the weather forecast for the holiday period. It is a depressing exercise as the forecast is unremittingly overcast and wet. I return to the packing and checking I have enough warm and waterproof clothing. Of course the ubiquitous pack a mac becomes part to the plan and the books get bigger.

At lunch time my partner makes me sandwich which I eat on the patio which watching the squirrels feed. Then its back to the packing and the tricky calculations of how many pairs of socks and underpants the holiday is going to require. Eventually I get to the point I can do more so I take my afternoon vital and get ready to train. I feel very tired but I need to train to ward off the side effects as much as I can. So I get into my kit and head for the garage and set myself up for a half hour gentle row. It turns into a crap session, my nose runs, my earphones fail and I do not meet my usual standard goals. I clamber off the rower and head for the sofa to recover.

My partner finishes work and we co-ordinate to get the bins out and I then get out of my kit. Inevitably at this point I go for a piss. This is now an anxiety provoking activity. I now have a new definition of a good day. If I train and do not piss blood afterwards, its a good day. It keeps things simple and grounded. Today, thankfully, is a good day. I eat tea with my partner and then draft the blog. This evening I intend to rest having taken more paracetamol to dull the injection site soreness and watch TV. It won’t matter what as long as it gets me to bed later on. I know I have some London business to take care of but it will have to wait until tomorrow.