Wednesday and I wake up after a decent nights sleep. My partner brought me a hot water and then left to see her mother with her brother. I took my vitals, which were good so I got up and in a fit of optimism donned my training kit. Before making my way to the garage I take my morning meds. I strap onto the rower and decide after yesterdays efforts to go for a thirty minute session. I go for it, in the sense that I start off hard and try to maintain it for as long as possible. The result is that by the end of the session I have achieved a personal best. I am surprised but feel chuffed by the experience.

I record the session full of self congratulations and then tuck into toast and Lucazade. Having recovered from the row I shower and freshen up. By the time I am sparkling fresh my partner has returned just in time to see me drive off to the chiropodist. Arriving at the chiropodist I settle into the chair and de sock myself. What follows is some polite chit chat as my feet are pampered and all my troubled nails are put back into working order for the next two months. At the end of the session my feet feel joyous and I pay, book my next session and then literally skip out of the chiropodist.

Once home I offer to take my partner for a coffee at the revamped garden center close to us. We arrive and order scones and drinks and then spend time looking at the revamped facilities. When we had finished we wandered round the place selecting packets of seeds and looking for inspiration in the food freezers. Back at home I feel I am running out of spoons (energy) and settle down to listen to Meet David Sedaris interrupted only briefly to help change the bed linen. I also respond to a message from a friend who was resting after a “procedure” yesterday. I of course wished him well and hoped he had whiskey to drink and idly ask what the “procedure” was. His reply was one of those that makes one wince. So having retired my friend is now facing recovering from circumcision! I will of course be sending him erotic literature!

I start to draft the blog knowing that tonight I shall watch a crucial football match and then strive to have an early night as tomorrow I hope to write letters. I mentioned yesterday that a friends daughter did a charity run for cancer with my name on her back. On the back of this I wrote a brief poem, which I share here.

446
Her mothers asked her 
"do you want to put a name
on your bib?"
They explained it could be,
a charity,
a person,
an organisation. 
Her reply was,
"Roland, how do you spell it?"
I saw the photo
before she set off
on the muddy race.
This ten year old
made me speechless
and humble,
by her spontaneous thought.
I've never been run for before,
and maybe never again,
but  in that moment,
I never felt so grateful
and touched beyond words.
Cancer like poetry
reaches out unexpectedly
and finds compassion.

                                                               446   06-05-2025