Friday and its my partner’ birthday so the day is a slow one and a day of celebration. After making breakfast for my partner there are cards and presents to open. I discover my dosettes are empty and I have to take time to refill them for the coming two weeks. All part of maintaining the scaffolding around me to keep me steady. Its a pouring rain day but we walk to the florist in the village, a first for us. Our aim is to find a new Christmas wreath for the front door. We look the stock over and choose the one on the florist door. Its a bright one that has incorporated peacock feathers, so I’m sold on it. Once home it is immediately installed on the front door.

There is a lot of mundane stuff and Christmas stuff that gets done during the rest of the day until its time to go out for a celebratory meal in the evening. The weather is foul but the restaurant is snug and warm and we dine in comfort with good food. At the end of the meal I decide I will have a small Armagnac with my decaf coffee. It’s an irrational choice but sometimes I just think I’m sick of doing the right thing all the time, right drink, right food, right exercise, right right. Just occasionally I like to do something normal, if unwise. After the meal and back home there is time to catch up with a couple of TV series that I’m following, then its time for meds and bed.

Saturday I wake up tired and late, I take my vitals, all good, and then book a Tesco delivery for Monday. Before getting up I give into a wave of something and write poem to get what ever it is that has swept me.

479
I just want it out there
on a page
in ink, by my pen
that I am lonely
and scared.
It's the waiting
to be called
for the first 
cycle of
the rechallenge.
Like an old gladiator
who knows that each
time in the arena
could be the last. 
There come a point 
when skill and experience
are no substitute
for strength. 
Each new conflict 
maybe the one
that Caesar
lowers the thumb
and for the first time 
the crowd roars
for the adversary. 

                                        479 06-12-2025

I finally get up and grab a bagel and drive my partner to the garden centre with the good butchers and buy a lot of meat to see us through the coming week. Loaded down with provisions we return home and I begin to contemplate the annual erection of the Christmas tree. After a snack and the second half of a football match I start to get the tree from the garage. All goes well and then its time to get into the loft and retrieve the Christmas lights and decorations. In the process of opening up the loft I discover that the landing light fitting is faulty. By now its dark so it will have to wait until tomorrow. I retrieve the lights box and the light up animal bag. I am soon putting batteries into plastic illuminated animals and placing them on the window sill to welcome people in.

With the animals done I set about putting the lights on the tree. Its not an arduous job but tricky at time. Finally I get it done and the boxes away in the loft and bring down the decoration boxes. I’ve no intention of dressing the tree alone apart from a few new clear drops until tomorrow.

I eat the evening meal and watch Strictly with the family. Finally I get round to drafting the blog against the background of a a series called The Flight Attendant. I get to the point where its time to take my meds and get to bed. Tomorrow I need to mend the light fitting, help decorate the tree and prepare for Mondays 28 day injection, yep its come round again, while I am in the throws of waiting for chemo the old stuff keeps rolling on. That’s the deal, that’s the grind.