Thursday and I am up early to download yesterday evenings photos, The WiFi here is very slow so it takes ages to download them. The sea at high tide here makes it difficult to believe that the beach is so vast as it comes right up to the pebble ridge. I would add that the pebble ridge is a natural phenomena,the pebbles having been rolled smooth by the sea over eons. Originally the rock was part of the local cliffs and are over 300 million years old. The cliffs around the bay still have bands of the rock in them. Amazing what evolutionary time can manage to do.

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Our meal yesterday evening was pleasant enough. Our table was served by masked waitresses and fitted with a perspex end divider, while the windows were open to give ventilation. The dining was adequate and basic English but came with the great benefit of us having no effort to prepare it. A slow walk back to the apartment in time to watch the final episode of a documentary about an Irish mule who got caught in Peru and did time in one of their prisons. And so to bed, the hard mattress and the reminder that we need to do something about the squidgy thing back home.

Thursday continues all coffee. Its a late breakfast as the sun shines and we make our usual pilgrimage to the co-op for the papers and some food. We laze over the papers. I am not sure it is good for me as the news seems either ridden with tragedy or a chaotic mixture of conflicting agendas based on very few facts. I have more coffee and do the cross words. Gratifyingly one of todays articles suggested that doing crosswords fought 0ff Alzheimer’s, however that’s sod all use to me given my diagnosis. At about two o’clock we go out to walk. We follow the burrows path to the new cafe, which is only partially functional but does have ice cram and cans of coke. Thankfully it also has really good toilets. We walk back along the beach barefooted noticing the increase in jelly fish that are appearing on the beach. The sun is he brightest its been all week. Back at the apartment we eat cheese rolls and grapes and read a little. I fall asleep on the sofa noting as I doze off that my partner has already fallen asleep on the other sofa. Its 7 o’clock before we wake and prepare tea. So we watch a little TV but it is very dissatisfying so we go for an evening stroll on the promenade as the sun sets spectacularly over the sea. Our walk completes our step count for the day. Back at the apartment we flop onto sofas and eat strawberries before heading for bed.

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Wednesday. I am once again up early and downloading yesterdays photos. The above was a complete surprise as we looked for postcards. It sits atop the post box, brilliant piece of street art and community thoughtfulness.

The morning drifts by with breakfast followed by a trip to the shops to buy postcards,papers and Eccles cakes, all of which we consume during the morning. I discovered that the power socket that I had the laptop plugged into does not work. Bit of a blow as my battery was all but dead. Happily it sprung back to life once plugged into a new socket. So lunchtime comes around and we are off out into the sunshine. We walk the beach (sounds like a Johnny Cash song tittle), and find a spot to sit and read for a while. I settle into Atom.

Its quite interesting but a fairly standard account of the people involved. Marie Currie turns out to be a feisty one. After a while sitting on a towel on a lovely beach I become aware of the dampness of my arse as the water soaks though the towel, we move. The thing about prostate cancer is that prolonged walks can be tricky. Sometimes all is well but at other times its not so good and one can be found googling the nearest convenience. We wander, at a good pace, back towards the boat slope and change back into shoes to return to the apartment. I write postcards as my partner makes rolls for a late lunch. The cards are taken to the post box. If the notice on the box is to be believed we have just arrived two minutes before the collection is due. This is of course is the kiss of doom and means that we will get home before the cards arrive. Back at the apartment I laze, order flowers for a family members birthday and update the blog. Tonight we have a table booked at a restaurant. I’ve checked the menu, its basic English fayre so it will be a pig out rather than a refined dining experience. This calls for an elasticated waste band and a voluminous ice hockey jersey, something to accommodate the full belly and can be easily got out of at the end of the evening before collapsing into bed.

Tuesday. I start the day quietly on the sofa listening to the sea and downloading photos of yesterdays walks as the WiFi seems to have recovered.

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The sun appears , as does my partner and so the day begins but not before I read some Pablo Neruda. We breakfast late and then we go to buy todays papers, returning to read them on the patio with fresh coffee. Its a slow morning till we eat rolls for lunch. We agree the afternoon walk and get ready with supplies and towels. We walk and walk and walk and walk the length of the beach until we find a point to breach the pebble ridge. We walk back across the burrows to the closest ice cream van. We sit and eat ice cream before walking back to our apartment. We sit on the patio with coffee and scones to recover. Once rested we go in search of postcards. We find them but in a closed shop, so it will be a tomorrow job. We cook dinner and watch athletics and programmes about Hemmingway, before I return to the blog.

Sunday and I hit the first crisis, the Wi Fi packs up. Makes blogging bloody difficult. So given that the probem persisted until now; Monday at 18:00 these contributions are going to be short and more cartoonish than ever. Sunday was a very slow day of meandering around Westwood Ho! reminding ourselves of what is here and then buying more food including a can opener that we discovered the apartment was short of. We made the discover of a good pasty kiosk on the sea front and of course indulged having been for a long roam round the area. By the time we were hungry again we were back in the apartment settling in to watch the last set of the men’s final at Wimbledon. For the first time in a long time I sat and read good Sunday newspapers. Not a lot of comfort to be had from them apart from the fact that some people are still trying to remain thoughtful about the pandemic. I also enjoyed the arts pages, which I discovered I missed. Of course at “that time” we sat down to watch England lose on penalties to Italy. My view: we sent boys to do a mans job. The more experienced players should have taken the responsibility of taking the penalties and not left it to the kids. Not smart Gareth, but noble to take the responsibility.

Monday and its wrestle with the bloody IT. After a lateish breakfast we go and walk the burrows behind the boulder ridge that borders the beach and then we walk back along the beach. Shoes and socks off we paddle the length of the beach returning to our favourite pasty kiosk for refreshment. After a rest we shop for salad and return to the apartment to find the WiFi back up, slow but up. We get comfortable, do the crosswords and then go for more shortbread, chocolate and fudge to see us through the evening. So here I am tentatively writing the blog and hoping the WiFi keeps chugging along. My latest theory of humanity from my observations of them at the seaside is that they stand still waiting for food but everything else is movement.

I am going to end here and perhaps risk adding photos later.

Its Saturday and we woke at 6 to dine on marmalade toast and coffee. I showered and then set about packing the car. It all went well apart from the handle of one of the suitcases falling off. By 8 o’clock we were under way to Westwood Ho! We arrived at 2pm due to the fact that I decided to stop twice, once for bladder relief and a snack and the second time just for another bladder relief. Before prostate cancer I would have ploughed on with foot down hard on the accelerator, muttering things about “whats the point of having a shit of a shovel car if you don’t go fast”. Now days I am more concerned with being comfortable and looking after myself, not to mention those in the car with me.

We arrive and unload and sit on our patio and look out over the ocean whilst eating pate and cherries washed down with coffee. We just sit and I watch people and the gulls waiting for one to try and snatch food from me like the bastards at Whitby tried to. But these gulls are clearly polite and well mannered which reinforces my view of the northern propensity to be rude under the guise of straight forwardness. Of course once rested we shop for all the things we realised we had forgotten while on the journey down. It also included super glue to mend the suitcase handle and some non alcohol beer. We wandered a bit to just make sure that everything we remembered from last time was still here. The brightly coloured row of cottage, the restaurants and shops where we bought trinkets to remind us of here never thinking we would be back. We return to the apartment and flop into big soft sofas and stare out the window for a while, I even read a little bit. Of course it was only a matter of time before I tried out the WiFi. I finally got in adn started to write the blog but hit a snag with the text formatting. Only one thing to do, pullout and restart the laptop and of course let it up grade. That was a mistake, the WiFi is so slow it took the laptop over an hour to up grade and reboot by which time we had figured out how to use the oven, cooked adn eaten a pizza, installed the mobile carbon monoxide detector/alarm and unpack. As the sun starts to go down I get back into the blog and finish for the day. Currently I am contemplating a gentle evening stroll while also playing with the TV to see if we can hook it up to the internet. I feel an early night coming on as the drive has made me tired. Perhaps the ocean will revive me.

Its Friday, prepare day for holiday. I’m up and meuslised and coffeed early and set about the holiday tasks. Empty bins, recycle cardboard, fill the car, check the tyres and top up the screen wash. Then of course there is the final packing and those tortuous decisions about what I’m going to be wearing over the coming week. On balance I figure I am going to an English seaside town (village) that has become more “kiss me quick hats” and chalet home holiday camp than an elite dining experience. That established I’ve gone for ultra casual, actually I’ve gone for one step from slob. Shorts, classy of course and a variety of tops from T shirts to ice hockey jerseys. Once again classy. With new underwear and socks I’m good. I wonder if the red street boots are a step too far.

I retreat to the shed for a while and write a letter. I find that if I do not write for a few days my head gets clogged with words and I do not function well. I pop over to the post office and drop the letter in the box. Its lunch time and my partner logs off from work and we go shopping for holiday food. We get enough to see us through the first couple of days, after that who knows. If we are in luck we can always pop over to the ice cream van that parks on the promenade opposite the apartment. We laze over coffee and Danish pastry as we read the paper and then I indulge in the crossword until my chore list calls. I take a call from a friend and we chat for a while about the coming days, work and parenting. I get my case sorted and down stairs. I’m still not sure about my wardrobe but I think its pitched right. Its time to train I’ve decided to bike today to loosen my legs and give my arms a rest. I return to the shed and set about my session.

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As I cycle the rain beats down and I wonder what you do when it throws it down in an English seaside village. There is going to be crazy golf on the edge of an ocean. I finish the session and sit resting before I move back to the house and change. I watch some tennis and then wander the garden taking pictures of flowers I had not noticed before.

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My evening continues with dinner,a film and the blog. Tonight I shall rest early and get myself ready for the drive to the seaside in the morning. Judging from tonight’s travel news the M5 and onwards to our seaside spot is a traffic nightmare. I guess the whole of England is running for shelter and some respite. I just want to see the sea, walk a beach and remind myself of just how elemental water is.

Thursday and I am up eating a muesli breakfast early. I watch the TV report on the COVID figures and the decisions being made. I am increasingly curious about the changing basis for decision making when it is being freely admitted that we are in a third wave. We are in a crazy situation where people are junking the tracking system and placing their faith in the vaccination process despite the fact that large urban areas have rates as low as 30%. Masks are being dumped and with it the idea of protecting others. It feels like large numbers of people are just about to take what they want regardless of the consequences to them or anyone else, with the travel industry heading the charge of people from a relatively safer environment into areas that are less safe. Could money be involved I ask myself.

A friend calls on her way to her second jab and we talk COVID and agree that there will be lock down in winter. I get to my meeting and spend time discussing with colleagues where we are going and how things are at the moment. There are some practical things to sort out and the its time to say farewell before lunch time arrives. I sit with my eldest daughter and we decide on what she wants delivered for the week at home on her own. The family then stroll down to the village shop to grab eggs and a paper for lunch. The sun is out and we eat scrambled eggs on the patio and read the paper. I linger over the crosswords before returning to the village and collect my drugs from the chemist. Back home I get my washing in and then sort them away before get into my training kit. I row for half an hour. Its hard, I’ve not trained for four days. I am rapidly discovering that I loose my fitness very quickly if I do not train everyday, except Sundays of course. So I grind out a session vowing that I will keep making the effort, although going away for a week will be a challenge.

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I clamber off the rower and then head for the luxury of a bath bomb bath. It is a delicious soak, I eat a peach and listen to the radio. Time for the usual Thursday tuna pasta and then some Wimbledon. My youngest daughter messages me to say that the sellers of the house they are in the process of buying have withdrawn. She is angry and I am afraid I was not much help. One of those times when the right words fail me. Parenting can be tricky. I watch more tennis and then return to the laptop to write the blog.

Tomorrow it is preparation day to travel on Saturday for a weeks break. The car needs to be prepared and the packing finished. Of course the food shop has to be done and the things that keep me safe like checking the first aid kit. Of course my office back pack goes with me and my newly acquired sketching kit to start the talentless artist uses art materials collection.

Wednesday and I am one day in to being 73 and its going okay. I’ve decided to write the blog earlier today as I feel I’ve rather short changed folk by being so tired late at night when I usually write the blog. Today started with lots of intent but has ended up a plodding tidying sort of day. I have integrated my lovely presents into my treasure trove and started to nibble away at my new books. They are all so good its difficult to know where to start. I’ve taken a few bites out of The Loneliness of the Soul about the relationship between the work of Tracy Emin and Evard Munch and I’ve had a few crumbs from Why Beautiful People have More Daughters a book on Evolutionary Psychology.

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Along with the books came some magnetic book marks, which I use all the time. There is one that arrived that I am particularly attached to already.

Along with the above two other books arrived which I have put to one side to take on holiday with me. The Adichie book I anticipate will be good and the Atom is right up my street.

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Along with the books came lots of letter writing paper and envelopes. A complete sketching kit with paper pads also arrived so I am going to take it on holiday with me and play. I cannot draw and have little if any artistic talent (good ideas but no skills to execute them). I thought I might just “do stuff” and then exhibit it as an exhibition entitled “Talentless artist uses up materials”. I can feel hideous seaside daubing’s and seascapes coming on.

I popped out to the garden to dump some wood shaving packaging on the compost heap and notices some new flowers had blossomed in the garden. It is truly amazing how such gems appear in the garden with apparently no effort at all. I also found some interesting moulds growing on my wood pile.

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My partner and I take a lunch time stroll around the village checking out gardens and plants as we go. Lunch is soup and then I intended to train, but the weather threw it down and I ended up giving my eldest daughter a lift to her gym session. I pay my car tax, my partners car tax and my HMRC bill for the coming half year. I return to the sofa and nibbled a bit more at my books and then cleared the kitchen and set the table for scones with clotted cream and jam as a treat. They were very good and will fill me till the football this evening. The guy who does the garden arrived and started to tidy up and plant my tomatoes plants out in the raised front bed but half way through his stint the weather turned diluvial and drenched him into submission. I watched him depart defeated as I started to write the blog.

I’ve had lots of cards for my birthday and some letters which prick my conscience as I am aware that I have been neglectful of my correspondents. I think I have been preoccupied with doing my presentation and trying to keep everything going alongside my current wave of blood tests and scans. The managing of my cancer while preparing to go away on holiday has been an additional task as it required the scheduling of my 28 day injection earlier than usual and the ordering of my drugs earlier. It feels like it is time to reset, go no holiday, walk a lot and rest before returning and making the effort to resume as near a normal life as possible, which will include traveling and seeing people again. For me it is a balance of having a life limiting cancer and living in a pandemic virus environment. Not a straight forward equation, it never is but I’ve spent almost 16 months in isolation and I am institutionalised in my own home. My friend in her letter pointed out that I had used the phrase “misplaced sense of time” when I talked about not touching my poetry project. I think that I had taken the mirage of my good health to be a reality that meant that I did not need to pay attention to my mortality and prioritise those things that are important to me. I need to pay attention again and get more active in my life hence my intention to rest on holiday and come back and live with a little more urgency. In the first place expect letters and then visits.

But tonight its England v Denmark

Tuesday, my birthday. Of course I have breakfast and then attend a work shop on recovery and deliver my presentation. It goes okay. During the morning get lots of happy birthday messages, which is really nice. I gather together the various envelopes and parcels that I assume are for me and put them on the dining table for later. My niece visits and brings a card and a present from my partners brother and herself. We sit and chat for a while before she leaves to collect a prescription for her father. I clear things away and settle down to watch Wimbledon when my friend calls to wish me happy birthday, a lovely surprise. I am cooked a birthday steak meal with strawberries and cream followed by chocolate cake. Food over, we face time my youngest daughter and I open my presents and cards. I am very blessed with art materials, books, bath bombs, writing paper and a T shirt with a lovely moon pattern. I watch Italy beat Spain in the football semi final while eating birthday fudge. I settle down to read a letter that arrived to day and reenjoy my presents quietly on my own after everyone has gone to bed. I am 73, and this is my birthday; I have no idea how many more I will get, but if I want more I need to get back to training and looking after myself.

Monday and its get radioactive day. I’m up and shower and have a minimal breakfast but a lot of water. I drive to the hospital and check in at nuclear medicine. Not many people around and it feels sparse and sterile.

I get called into the nurses room where I am introduced to one of the camera technical team who wants to extend her expertise to being able to put the catheter in arms. So we chat and the nurse explains what needs to be done and the trainee wields the needle at my vein. It does not go well, too tentative. In the end the nurse calls a halt to the attempt and sticks the catheter in my other arm and pumps the radioactive stuff into me. I get to have two fluffy clouds and get sent away for two hours before they can do the scan.

I spend a couple of hours at home doing some admin and trying to get the final version of tomorrows presentation ready. I discover that the presentation is too big to send as an email attachment, which means its going to be tricky to sort as it won’t even go as a zip file. I return to the hospital and go to the scan waiting room. Ironically the television is showing a medical programme and of course the topic was cancer. Could have done without that.

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I use the facilities and as I step out I am hailed by the camera technician who takes me into the camera room and lays me out in the equipment. I lay back close my eyes and try to have a snooze, it goes well until I realise all the water I drank is catching up with me. So by the end of the scan I am desperate for a leak. I’m off the machine and off to the toilet double quick and then wait to be told if my pictures are okay. They are and I am released. I will not get to know the results until my oncologist rings me in August unless there is something extreme in the pictures. I go home and try to send the presentation again. A friend calls and we talk growing veg and flowers and general how the world is stuff. I once again return to the presentation and try making it into 4 section. Three can be sent but the last one refuses to go no matter how much I cut it down, in the end I quit. I try to edit the register in my computer to reset the size limit on my outlook settings. I manage to find my way and to set up a new register maximum size value but my email still refused to send the file. A friend rings as she takes her cat to the vet, we chat about the COVID situation as Boris had just laid out his plans for the 19th of July where it appears he is abandoning caution to the wind, accepting a third wave and crossing his fingers that summer and the general publics good sense will prevail. I continue to wrestle with the presentation but in the end I settle for knowing that I can share it on my screen. The evening arrives as does Wimbledon and the Tesco delivery. Still drinking copious amounts of water I start to write the blog as the plucky Brit tennis player withdraws hurt, Tesco fail to deliver eggs and I wonder how tomorrow will go.