Wednesday and I get up late to not much to do having done my good vitals. My morning is spent sorting out the Amazon deliveries for the garden and carrying out some admin tasks. While my partner is at work I and my eldest daughter go to the pub for lunch. We have a good first course and a chat and we both go for a pudding. I, in my innocence, selected the Mars Bar Brownie. That was a mistake, I never thought it was possible to pack so many calories into a rectangular block that could fit on a plate.

On the way home I picked up a paper and some stuff from the chemists. The crosswords keep me busy for a while until the evening rolls around when my partner goes out and leaves me to watch a Batman film I’ve not seen before. Inevitably I reach night meds time and the equally inevitable grope around in the dark to remove the various instruments and contraptions from the bed while my partner snoozes blissfully. My last act is to stick my nose strap on and settle down.

Thursday and I wake up late, I had planned a great deal but now I am buggered. By the time I have checked my messages and up for my morning meds its nearly noon. So I have a a quick breakfast and then I head for the garden. For the next four hours I beaver away erecting a new willow screen, planting new camellias, putting the new bird feeder up and stowing the bird seed in the mouse proof bin. Then the newly delivered compost needed housing in the greenhouse and the garden furniture put under cover for the winter. Eventually I had no more spoons of energy and returned to the house. Suitably refreshed I fill my drug wallets for the next two weeks and begin to draft the blog.

The evening will be filled with, hopefully food, and England football team taking on Greece in some competition or other. Along the way I found myself writing a poem but I am not sure what I am going to do with it yet. I am still waiting for the Americans to come back to me for the final final draft of The Cancer Years: Breathless. I’m getting itchy to be moving the process on.