Thursday and a glimmer of sunshine so I am into my shorts and down for breakfast and meds in the shake of a lambs tail. No football, at least not until 11 o’clock so I have time to fill. I do my usual check of messages and emails, nothing exciting or demanding there. I stare in to space and then notice the objects strewn on the coffee table before me. They seem surreal and I get an urge to write, a sort of poem. Its one I might take to the Poetry Stanza so they can spend ten minutes playing with.

Twenty three and a half
By twenty three and a half inches.
A measuring tape.
Two laptops and stands
With mouse and mat, top layer.
Down.
Used envelop, deceased RAC card,
Hard drives, external.
Hair band, rubber band, box cutter,
Ear buds, biro, gimlet.
USB stick, glasses, glasses reading,
Bulldog clip, paper clip, expended paracetamol.
Paper note, post office receipt, postage stamps.
Sticky note flags, silver ring box, 
Remote and coffee glass;
Almost overlooked the fifty pence pieces, rare.
This is the archaeology of a dying life,
Or, another instillation by Tracey.

If you think £50, 000 is a joke remember Tracy Emine’s bed installation went for £2,400000 purportedly representing her struggle with a break down, so I reckon that wrestling with stage 4 cancer got to be worth at least £50,000. You see how absurd the world is and must not be taken seriously.

So onto the football and what a game. I’m really enjoying this tournament. Lowly South Korea hold the might Germans to a one all draw, while elsewhere Morocco, who Germany thrashed 6-0 in the first round, beat Columbia, who beat Germany 2-1 in the first round, by a goal to nil, thus eliminating the two time word champions and hot favourites out of the world cup. Columbia and Morocco go on into the knock out phase of the competition while Germany fly home. They did not look happy at all. My partner brings me a lunchtime sandwich and we watch the Moroccans celebrate.

The post arrives and my one piece of post that isn’t automatic recycling is my copy of the oncologist’s report from my last review to the GP. These letters are usually bland but I noted one phrase in it that seemed out of character for “he who made a pact with the devil”, namely and I quote: “I am delighted that his PSA has already started to fall from 8.9 to 5.5”. Its the first time he has ever expressed enthusiasm for anything. I could cynically interpret his delightedness as relieve the drugs are working because if they don’t I doubt he has any more potions up his sleeve. Anyway by just after midnight tomorrow I will know if his delight will be fuelled by a further drop in my PSA or whether our telephone call on the 10th of August will be a tricky one.

I take my vitals, all good there and then go to the Shed. It overcast and cold so I am in a pullover to keep myself warm. I write a letter while drinking water and eating the last of the fluffy wine gums rescued from the car. Letter finished I seek stimulation and find a couple of small unfinished “paintings” and decide to see if I can get going on them again. So I spend what must have been hours working on them. By the time the garden guy arrives at tea time I am almost done, I can concentrate no more so I pack up the Shed, undecided whether I had finished the two little boards. Here they are. There are two others in the same vein somewhere. The idea (yes there was an idea) came from looking down on the Spanish landscape as we came into land many years ago. The little boards have been kicking around in my art bag for years waiting to be finished. I must dig out the other two and see if the all hang together as originally envisaged. Probably not as time has moved on and my internal universe is doing something different with the memory now.

Piet Mondrian’s famous block colour painting Red, Blue and Yellow, which also had a lot of white in it sold for $50,565,000. As you can see my works are small but more complicated. Once again the world of absurdity raises it head. Back in the house I start to draft the blog and think about my evenings entertainment. I shall read for a bit and no doubt TV will play a role. Whatever happens I shall be going to bed early as tomorrow I’m going for my pre oncology review blood tests at 9 o’clock and I shall want to shower before I go, one simple doesn’t go to the doctors surgery smelly, does one.