Thursday and I wake again in my single MB3 bed. The sun is shining but I feel tired as my night was the now usual two hour sleep cycle. I pack my stuff and stick it in the back of the car and walk up to the main building to find it is closed. I chat to the two others who had stayed over night as we wait for some one to arrive and open up. Of course someone arrives and lets us in so that we can grab coffee and toast before driving home. I have a chat with our host of the last two days and then head for home. It’s been a really good two days of getting back to being with people again and discovering that I’ve the potential to be a relational warrior.

Once home I unpack and get the washing under way. I find an intriguing parcel waiting for me and I recognise the handwriting as being my sisters so this is going to be interesting, and I am right. A cracking T shirt.

I start to get my blog up to date. I cut and paste in the entries that I wrote over the last two days and get the blog into some sort of order. As I thought yesterday it was MB3’s fire wall that was locking my out of my site. I walk down to the chemist and gather up my drugs for the month. Its that time again, bloods taking tomorrow and then my 28 day jab on Monday followed by an oncology appointment on Tuesday to get the scan and blood results. As this two month review was the result of an increased PSA level last time I am eager to know what this latest round of tests is going to show. I know that I am quite anxious about the results as I have been experiencing “this could be the last time” moments. It started with the Olympics and has been reinforced by meeting with colleagues face to face over the past couple of days. This combined with the latest round of tests feels tricky. So its all about holding my direction, keeping training, staying off the sugar, keeping rational and taking it a step at a time.

I wander into the garden to see what had happened to it since being away and I am immediately surprised by the huge lillys that have come into bloom. Staggering.

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I take to the rower in the garage for an half hour and find it is hard work. One thing about age is that I lose fitness quicker than I used to. Given that I’ve been away on holiday and then again this week its not surprising that this session feels hard work. I get through it and go for a shower.

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Post shower I sort my washing and settle down to update the blog for the day. We eat dinner and I continue the blog till a friend calls for a catch up and I take the opportunity to seek her advice about Occupational Therapist assessments. I return to the blog to finish my day.

Its Tuesday and today I travel to MB3 to meet up with other members of the group. I start the day with my favourite bacon bagel and then take the car to the garage to fill and to check the tyres. I make a dash to the supermarket and buy food to take with me. Probably contentious but I can’t not take anything, it’s not something I can do. Back home there is some clearing up to do and bins to be put out. There is of course the last-minute packing to do and mentally run through my check list. Come lunch time I’ve done todays crosswords and I am ready to leave. A friend calls and we chat for a while and then I am ready for the off. It’s a very straight forward drive, M69 and then A46 for an hour and forty minutes until I arrive at the venue for the meeting. I park up and put food in the fridge and dump my stuff in my room in the residential building. Soon others arrive and so begins the experience. My evening is filled with barbequed food and conversation as we get settled in. I am pleased to be here but alongside this is the slight anxieties of doing the face-to-face stuff with real people and people I like and respect. I cannot write here in the blog what we spoke about as I think it would be disrespectful to my friends and damaging to the trust between us. In the Therapeutic Community fraternity there is an expectation that confidentiality exists automatically, so I shall abide by it. The environment here at MB3 is lovely and I am excited by the view from my bedroom window, it looks out over the yurt, which I we get to use tomorrow, but we will see.

We have agreed breakfast at 9am tomorrow. Having collectively washed up and cleared away people drift off to their rooms but I remain in the main building as this is where the Wi-Fi is and I have the blog to write. I try to get access to my website but for some reason I cannot get in so have resorted to writing this in Word in the hope that I will be able to cut and paste it across when I can get access. Its only 10:30 and feels awfully early to me as I rarely go to bed before midnight. I shall attempt to get into my website again but if not I shall retreat like the others to my bedroom and read or write letters.

Wednesday, the day of the Elders meeting, and still, I cannot get into my website, apparently it may have something to do with MB3’s fire wall. I have breakfast and repair with the rest to the yurt. And so, the day begins as we talk and think our way through the day. It seems a struggle at times but it feels productive as we gradually whittle away to the critical issues. There is a space in which we are shown the archives at MB3 and I note that there are things I can donate to the archives related to prison therapeutic communities. We also find time to talk to a colleague in India which puts some things into context. As the day breaks up and people leave those remaining for the night cook, eat and chat before clearing away and retiring early to bed. I pack for my return journey and write a draft of the blog for when I can get into the site again. During the last couple of days people have enquired how I am and how I am coping with my cancer. It has been strangely reassuring to be able to tell people how I am and share some of my thoughts about the process of trying to manage the cancer and the interventions that are a consequence of the illness. People are kind and explore some of the experiences with me and make connections with others experiences. These conversations lay alongside other conversations about entanglement theory, altered states of mind, the unconscious and the other ideas that occupy us as we try to make sense of things.

Monday and its CT scan day later so I need to get going in the morning. I get coffee and cook an omelette. Of course the TV is full of returning Olympians espousing their philosophy of life, success and achievement. I go for an early morning training session. I get to the garage and strap into to the rower. This was going to be an average level 5 half hour. I get going and realise its harder going than I expected. I put it down to yesterdays hour but then realised that I had accidentally put the level at 6, not what I intended. I persist and get through a reasonable session.

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Well that went better than I expected to so its off to a refreshing shower and a smoothie to recover. I am enjoying the smoothie looking out of the kitchen window into the garden and I notice that the the roofing felt on the apex my beloved Shed had come away. Nothing for it but to get the ladder out and a few tools and get up on the roof. For some reason the felt had come away along one edge adn folded over on itself, which means it was getting close to peeling off altogether. So I get my freshly showered arse up on the roof and re tack the edges on the exposed felt. It goes reasonably well but will need watching in case I need to re felt the roof as a whole.

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By the time I am finished putting the mornings tools away its time to head to the hospital for the CT scan. Its a relatively short drive so I get to the hospital in good time and mask up to get to radiology. I check in and get given two labels and directed to waiting section C where I find some more people in various stages of the process. A nurse takes my labels and disappears. A few minutes later I get called out to a smaller room where a nurse asks me all the questions I answered on the health form they sent me. I am told to take my necklace off and my jacket. I am taken into a clinical room and the nurse fits me with a catheter and explains what they are going to pump into me and how it will make me feel. They lead me into the scan room and I jump up onto the couch hoping for a brief nap while they get on with it. Unfortunately I have to breath and hold it when they tell me so the nap is out the window. The scan is quick adn I am sent to a room to wait for them to check the scan. It turns out okay and I am led back to the clinical room ad my catheter is taken out and told to sit for five minutes to make sure I did not bleed through the dressing on my arm. I wait for 5 minutes and then leave.

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Mechanically this CT scan lark is pretty straight forward, its the head stuff that sneaks up on me. There are moments were its strikes home that I am on my own with this and there are moments when I feel suddenly very tired of all this being jabbed, scanned and processed. It passes, it always does but I think it is a response to the sense of powerlessness that the medical profession, hospitals and the industrialisation of illness induces in me. It is in distinct opposition to how I try to live my normal life and to take control of the things I can control. I drive home and find my Lateral Flow Tests that my partner has collected from the chemist for me today. I read the instructions and realise I will have to wait half an hour due to the half a bag of wine gums I consumed on the way home. Time comes around and I undertake my very first LFT.

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I am relieved and send my results to the people I am meeting tomorrow. One of them replies with their results. What a strange world we live in, reassuring each other that we are not the leper in the social milieu. While I waited for the LFT to do its magic over the required half an hour I took to the garden and looked for all the things that had blossomed while we were away last week. Here are a few of the gems that I found in the garden.

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My LFT is of course clear so I can pack my overnight bag and replace the extension lead that feeds my sofa end office. Its time to eat tea. A friend rings and we talk families, holidays, birthdays, swimming and CQC. It reminds me that I need to check my CQC status and registration. Returning to the lounge I start to write the blog until our Tesco delivery arrives. I plug on with the blog against the background of the TV news. Tomorrow I travel and meet a group of peers to think and share our views, a rare opportunity in these days of COVID.

Saturday, its return to home day so after toast and a last minute tidy up we set off for home at about 9:30. The journey is slow and with a short comfort break we get back home at about 1:30pm. I’m a sort of “get it sorted” person so I unload the car and unpack immediately. My stuff is put away and my washing started, tomato plants watered and post sorted. I get captured by the Olympics again but not before I retrieve my spare drugs wallet and get todays full compliment into me. Over the previous week I had to space my drugs out as I had foolishly managed not to take a full weeks supply. That’s worthy of a note to self; Remember your drugs. As a treat we ordered in Indian takeaway as a final holiday meal. The evening was taken up with watching “The Trail of the Chicago Seven” and the Olympic men’s marathon, which saw an excellent example of the Olympic spirit. At the end of the marathon three men were fighting for the silver and bronze medals, the Netherland runner encouraged his Belgium training partner to come along side him when his partner was flagging and at the end in the final strides he took time to encourage him once again. It worked and they took silver and bronze. It turns out that they had both fled from Somalia in order to survive and found sanctuary in their respective new countries, which they then honoured with Olympic success. I liked that.

Sunday and my marathon viewing means I sleep in till 10 o’clock. I wake to the sound of the national anthem and find that the Brits have won more Olympic gold. Breakfast is bacon sandwich and coffee and the Olympic closing ceremony. It is an unexpectedly tricky experience. As everyone talks about a short three year Olympic cycle to Paris in three years time I am caught by the thought that I might not be here to see it, this may have been my last Olympics, bit of a downer. What I call a Dark and Tricky moment. I am lifted by face timing my youngest daughter who was full of life. I get myself ready to train as I need to get my body moving again, I need energising. I get in the garage and astride the rower, I had intended to do an average half an hour but once strapped in I decide to go for an hour at a slightly lower level. An hour later I am pleased I made the effort. My new tyre pump for the car had arrived so there was time to unpack it and have an initial play with it. Time to eat dinner and catch up on the blog. Tomorrow its time to get back to business with a CT scan to do and preparation for my first face to face meeting in over 17 months, which means a rapid flow test, a new first, lets hope its negative.

Friday and its another fun packed day of Olympics, but today they are against the background of intense thunderstorms. Thunderstorms over the sea are always more spectacular and make a good additional entertainment. We spend the morning and the afternoon just gazing and watching real fit people doing incredible things. Finally the storms abates, the Olympics ends for the day, I’ve booked travel for later in the month and done some basic admin so its time to venture out to the nearest shop to get food for the evening meal and a paper with crosswords. Its a relatively brief walk. Back at the cottage I settle down with the puzzles while my partner drifts into a late afternoon doze. I pack ready for leaving in the morning. My partner rouses and cooks our tea and we settle down again to the evenings TV. It has been a day of intense idleness and I feel no guilt knowing that I have two busy weeks ahead of me, both physically and mentally. I have changed my WhatsApp and phone directory picture to the new long haired me. I’m not yet quite at the Lucius Malfoy stage but to be honest I’d have to iron my hair to get it like his. So I am now looking for a curly haired role model.

It occurs to me that there was a wizard in the Terry Pratchett books called Rinsewind but its not the role model I quite had in mind. Perhaps I’d be better off going for hermit status and go for Diogenes as a role model. Anyway I’ve come a long way from the man with post chemo stubble and a steroid balloon face. I’m missing my pen and ink and the Shed but I guess I need to be patient for a while and stay focussed on the stuff to come, like Mondays CT scan.

Thursday and its a lazy morning watching more Olympics before getting ready to go to Amizona, the zoo just down the road from Mundesley. We drive down the back roads of the area to Cromer and out to the zoo. We park up and check in at reception. We wander the COVID one way system taking in the creatures as we go. So here are a few pictures:

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After a drink and a sandwich we discovered they did not sell marmoset cuddly toys in the gift shop, this was a blow, we drove back to the cottage and arrived as it started to rain for the first time. There was more Olympics and then time to shower and change before heading for the Vernon Arms for an evening meal. It was a reasonable meal in what is essentially a pub.

During the treacle tart pudding the heavens open and it throws its down. A slow coffee later and I am driving back to the cottage in pouring rain down the back roads of Mundesley. We get back to the cottage and hunker down for the night and listen to the rain while I write the blog.

Wednesday and its sunny. So I am on the phone as soon as my GP surgery is open to book my bloods and my 28 day jab appointments for the coming week. That done I get up for breakfast and start the planning for the day. In a fit of very English enthusiasm we decide to visit Amazona the local zoo and education centre. I set about booking and find that we cannot get a time slot till 3:30 in the afternoon. I blame all those holiday makers staycationing. We book for the next day in the afternoon and go for plan B. This is constituted by a quick watch of the Olympics, long enough to see yet another gold come GBs way, and then a long walk down the beach. We set off and make our way to the beach where we don our beach shoes and and head north towards Cromer. The beach is deserted in this direction and as we make our way I become aware of the number of cormorants that are perched on the break waters.

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We stride the beach taking pictures as we go. The step counters are ticking away and after a time we turn round adn make the return trip. The beach is quite a curates egg with some areas of soft sand and others with pebble ponds. At the end of our walk we climb back up to the top of the cliffs and make our way back to Sea Lavender where we retreat to the garden with drinks and Magnum ice creams. The garden is alive with butterflys and bees.

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The garden is very pleasant and we enjoy the sunshine as we recover from our walk. I’ve been looking for unusual holiday breaks and we chat about possibilities. I’m keen on a writers course I’ve found at a retreat in Yorkshire. We might go for this but diaries need to be checked. There are some things that we are short of so we get shod and take a walk to “1st camp Tesco” on the way to Mundesley. Once in the shop we of course free style and ignore the list and buy spontaneously so we walk away with a strange bag of goodies including a paper with the all important crosswords and puzzles that I can do. The walk back is gentle but it does get me through the 10,0000 steps barrier. Go me. Getting my steps in is important as I am away from my home gym. I would like to avoid putting on too much weight over these weeks of holiday and busy activity. We get back to our holiday house and sit in the garden and drink coffee as we set about todays crosswords and puzzles. Time passes until we both feel peckish and we set about making our dinner. The evening starts sofa bound as I start to draft the blog and confirm tomorrows arrangements. Doubtless the evening will be full of the Olympics and perhaps some postcard writing.

Tuesday and its a day for a lay in, a long lay in. So long that its 10 o’clock before the first coffee and the initial check of the emails and WhatsApp. Of course the Olympic results had to be checked and celebrated with toast and more coffee. By now its getting close to time to go for our booked lunch at an arty hotel a quarter an hour away. A shower and a change and we set off for the Gunton Arms. My Satnav takes me down every small back road and past a police speed camera van, oops, time will tell. We arrive.

We are shown to our table and order initial drinks as we peruse the menu. The menu is interesting and the specials board looks good. Its a tricky decision but I decide on a starter, main and pudding.

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My starter is excellent followed by an equally good main. It’s so good to eat excellent food that is made by someone else. We are surrounded by art and in between courses we read the “art pamphlet” to tell us what we are surrounded by. There is an Enim room with some of her trade mark illuminated signs.

As I sit and eat my crab pasta I have the Irish Elk fossil antlers over looking me above the open cooking range where the cook prepares steaks and other goodies. The Elk antlers are thousands of years old and came from an Irish peat bog. The owner of the Gunton Arms is an art dealer and bought them at auction years ago.

Opposite me are two Damian Hurst butterfly prints but there is also a provocative peace by an artist, which in fact is also a visual joke. I do not think some people get it as the reviews of the hotel make mention of racist art. It is a difficult piece but as the “art pamphlet” notes the art here is meant to make people think and to prompt an emotional response.

By the time I am through the main dish, crab pasta, I of course need a piss and set off for the gents. Well of course this is an experience, here are a few of the things that adorned the walls.

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My pudding is superb cheese cake and is followed by coffee. Its been a real experience and if it was possible I would like to return and have more time with the art work as there is so much here to take in. Amongst them are a series of pictures of women alcoholics showing them at their most vulnerable and distressed which were designed in response to a request to design labels for a wine company, unsurprisingly they were never used by the wine company. Although I like the art I am not sure the couple at the nearest table to this set of pictures felt about tucking into lobster next to the image of a woman being sick into a sink. We tip the waitress and pay the bill. We drive back to the cottage to rest and recover. I write the blog as I want to capture my day freshly. Soon we will go for a recovery walk and then we will see what the evening brings. The evening brought a walk to Mundesley and back and a peaceful rerun of the Olympics. Tomorrow I need to book my next oncology blood test, 28 day injection and the net months drugs. It never really leaves me.

Monday and I wake to blue sky and the sound of the sea to be followed by muesli and coffee. Todays the day we intend to explore Mundesly and see what it has to offer. With back pack on I lead the way. We find the center of the village and head for he promenade. It is very English as the holiday makers set up camp on the beach in their tents, wind brakes and ground sheets.

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We watched the beach and the families there remembering how we had taken our daughters to beaches in far off places. We walked the promenade and then found our way to a pub for lunch. Although we could get drinks we had to wait for three quarters of an hour before we could order food. So we chatted and planned until food time arrived. The pub was having to pace its ordering system as it was clear that they did not have the capacity in the kitchen to deliver enough food for everyone at the same time. We order baguettes and munch our way through them before continuing to explore the village. So we find our way to the mini golf and on the spur of the moment we give it a go.

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Once I had got over losing we made our way back to the house via the local Tesco express for a box of Magnums. The day had gone and we settled down to read the paper, watch the Olympic highlights and to prepare a lasagne tea. As I rest after my meal I write the blog. Tonight its time to relax, read and write postcards. Tomorrow we have a lunch booked at a venue that claims it has lots of art memorabilia, we shall see.

Its Sunday and I wake up in a strange bed with the sound of the sea gently washing in the distance. Coffee and breakfast and of course we watch the Olympics while it rains outside. Here is the guided tour of our home from home:

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The house is newly renovated and is vary comfortable and modern. We have settled in well. Having out sat the rain we go to the local shop to buy some of the things we have forgotten to bring with us and then return before heading for a walk on the beach.

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We spend time walking the beach, its bracing and the sea has that slightly grumpy look, as if its envious of its pacific cousins. But it rolls and responds to the pull of the moon making its waves break along the beach. The cliffs above are crumbly and the beach full of rocks washed from the chalk. We head back to the house to relax and eat a hearty tea. While the pie cooks I start to write the blog. Tonight will be TV and continuing to try and turn off and probably watching the sea as night draws on.