Tuesday and I wake to the sound of my partner going off to work, so I check my messages and socials before taking my vitals, which once again are good. I get up and get into my training gear before making myself a giant crumpet breakfast and taking my morning meds. The garage has warmed up a bit since the last session so I set myself up for an hours row. Once the machine is set I get going. Its a tough session to start with and it doesn’t get any easier, so by the end I am dripping in sweat and just pleased to have made it. Its an average session but I have made 11+ kilometres and 700+ calories burnt off.

I record the session in my journal and then set about clearing the kitchen and emptying the dishwasher. With that out of the way I have room to make a turkey mince pie. Turkey mince is pretty bland so I pile in a lot of veg, chilli flakes and a sauce with white wine, herbs and brandy in it. There is a moment of respite as the pie filing bubbles away and the potatoes for the mash topping boil. I take the opportunity to have a chunk of panettone and a glass of Lucozade to see me through the afternoon.

The pie comes together like an A team plan and sits and waits for the end of the day. I crack on and put the bins out and then sit for some time deciding which poem to take to this months poetry Stanza. I fail to decide adn instead go for a shower followed by a session on my partners eye sauna while listening to restful music. I do my nails and put the oven on ready ofr the pie just as my partner returns from work.

With the post meal debris cleared away its time to start to draft the blog. It another mundane day in the life of this cancer fighter but one that has been navigated well. There is a football match on TV involving my favourite team tonight so I shall watch that on my laptop without sound whilst watching whatever my partner has chosen as an evenings entertainment. There will be night meds and a last look at possible poems to present before sliding off to bed and another nights sleep. I will probably go with 426

426
Fuck me I am addicted to Crunchies
Chocolate covered honeycomb
A blast from my childhood
come back to haunt my adulthood.
Once big enough to satisfy 
but now a weedy runt of a bar
the cunning confectioner 
sells them in multi packs,
one for now and now 
and now and now. 
I could walk away 
I could honestly 
because I know 
that down the aisle
Frys Turkish Delight 
lays in wait.
This poem cost me a Crunchie,
my conscience a smidgeon
of guilt.
Compared to my 
 other sins 
it’s a pleasure, 
especially when washed 
down with a 
Red Bull,
diet of course!

							426 09-01-2025