Welcome to Wednesday the third of January and the first day of Cycle 8 of chemotherapy II. Not a catchy tittle but it does what it says on the can. I woke to a day where I had nothing in the diary, a good day to get a grip and start up properly. My partner brought me coffee and we mused over whether or not the bin men would take the huge additional box of cardboard I put out last night. My first task is to play “get a doctors appointment”. This is of course familiar to everyone now. Ring and get engaged for at least ten minutes. Ring and get through but put on hold for ten minutes. Eventually the cheery person at the other end books you in. Fortunately for me this bit always goes smoothly as I am booking my next jab Monday. I usually get an early morning one but this time it at 4 o’clock in the afternoon. This is a bit of a bugger as it means my “withdrawing addict post jab symptoms” will not kick in until the night, which is never good as it coincides with my chemo meds effects. In the end I get up slowly and head for the kitchen where I load up the sultana jars and prepare muesli for the first time in ages. With muesli and hot water in hand I sit on the sofa just as the bin men arrive. I see them inspect the additional huge box of paper and carboard and sigh with relief as they toss it in to the lorry. Hurray I think inwardly. Now for my muesli.
It is strange how life can turn from mild elation to one of “Of for fuck sake”. Three mouthfuls of muesli into breakfast and my temporary crown comes off in my mouth. I blaspheme profusely and reach for my phone. So I go through the same routine as I went through with the doctor less than forty minutes ago. I explain my predicament and to my surprise the receptionist finds me an appointment in fifteen minutes. I quickly dress for the outside world, swill my mouth with mouthwash and head out with my detached crown in a clean envelope. Its not long before I am handing my envelop and disgraced crown to the dentist who gives me an “Oh dear, muesli is soft” and then tells me she is putting on a different type of temporary crown. In a trice I am on my back and bespectacled with the yellow shields and she gets to work on me in double quick time. With my orders not to eat for two hours and to keep mini brushing the gaps ( I hate those damn things) I leave free of charge and buy a paper on my way home.
The crosswords are tricky, or so I think, but I just have a slow start and I am soon giving myself ticks for completing my usual puzzles. As my partner prepares to go to see her mother with her brother I get organised to go to the Shed for the first time this year. The Shed feels damp and so I put the heater on full blast and light my scented candles as I settle into write my first letter of the year. I am distressed to find that my new writing paper will not take real ink. As I write the ink slowly blurs and looks like the smudged handwriting of a school boy, the gorilla of 4B to be precise. That young boy who is ferally mucky and disruptive who gives not a fig for tidy anything. I change to a conventional rollerball and proceed. There I sit trying to write my first letter of the year and it is sticky, sometimes the flow is not there or difficult to get going but I persevere to the point that my seal ring and wax are required. On my way back to the house to get my seal rings I am surprised by the first snowdrop. In all this miserable wet weather it is a most welcome sight and lifts me.
I complete my letter and pack up the Shed for today, but not before filing the squirrel feeder and discovering that rats or mice have chewed through the bird food storage box. The plastic box is wrecked and so I order a metal replacement, they will have to forage elsewhere. I also drain the top two sections of the water butt to ensure it can cope with more rain. Jobs done, Shed packed, I return to the house and then take a brief walk to the Post Office to send my letter on its way. By now I am hungry as I have not eaten since seeing the dentist earlier. I make coffee and cut myself a piece of panettone to eat while I draft the blog.
The evening comes around and I am feeling tired already so I suspect I shall eat and watch some television whilst putting new laces in my blue boots. Of course there are the first tablets of Cycle 8 of Chemo II to be taken before bed and then hopefully a peaceful nights sleep to be had. Tomorrow is another day with nothing in the diary but it could turn out to be as eventful as today, although I might get a head start on putting the Christmas decorations away and finding somewhere to store the new artificial tree. To my surprise before I get to go to bed the 2 format examples of the propose poetry book comes through. I review them and send my preference to what I am convinced is a chat bot or some sort of AI, but I do not care as it appears that progress is being made. As its all happening in America there is a time lag so I expect I shall wake up to more emails from my “project team”. Fairly soon my first concrete steps towards being England’s foremost vanity poet will be made.
