Saturday arrives and so a brief lay in before a lazy breakfast. I’ve finished my antibiotics so to day is a normal meds day and of course the Saturday ritual of filling my weekly drugs wallet. Having fed, drugged and completed the census form I get myself into the garden and start to gather up the pots around the garden that will be refilled for the coming spring and summer. I try to sweep the paths clear but find I am badly in need of a garden broom, which I promptly order from Amazon. I trim back some of the shrubs and stake others and have a general tidy up. The cherry trees are growing and edging towards spring blossom so I cut some of the ties tethering them to their initial stabilising stakes. I note the seeds are germinating.

I am satisfied with my mornings work and retire to the sofa to watch the international rugby. Italy of course are pounded. I change into my training gear ready to watch England loose to Ireland. Amazon deliver me a very pleasant surprise, a book of poetry. I shall spend part of my lazy Sunday to read them.

At the end of the match I dash to the garage and put in a session on the rower. I am mindful that the crucial rugby game of the competition is on TV at 8pm. I have a cracking session and I achieve a new personal best. Go me, I’m surprising myself.

• 

• 

There is time to change and then I am back on the sofa eating tea and watching an enthralling match between France and Wales, which the Welsh narrowly lose. After the excitement I write the blog to a background of football highlights. Its weigh in day tomorrow and if it goes well I intend a lazy day, some seed sowing, luxury bath and time to read. I also hope that I might come across a bag of mini eggs to have as a treat.

Friday. Up at 7 to take the antibiotics. Back to bed till 9. I’m not sure what I do with the morning apart from eat muesli and stare out of the window. I notice that next door is having a delivery and I realise I am suffering delivery envy. I’ve nothing ordered and not expecting anything and I feel acutely peeved about it. I ‘ve not got the time or the inclination to dig about trying to understand it I just feel the disappointment. I’m even more pissed off when the postman delivers the mail. Its all for me! I do not open a single item as everyone of them is an advert/catalogue/begging letter (charity guilt tool) and they go straight into the recycle bin. I realise that this is not a good place to be so I take a car to the garage to fill it and check the tyres discovering on the way that the village has the power company digging up its main road and creating havoc with temporary lights. I return to the village an alternative way and then take the the other car to fill and check its tyres. So now I’m all cared up and no where to go. My partner and daughter went out for a walk and to bring lunch back from the chippy. A friend rings and we chat COVID, sugar and sewing until the food arrives. So a rare lunch at the table. Its been a long time since I indulged in chips so I ended up feeling fuller that I had done for a long time.

Shed time. I change into my training gear and open up the shed. I write a letter and take a short trot to the post box. Back in the shed I experiment with some ink and brush work, but it is not a great success, something that needs more work. In desperation I climb on the bike and give myself a good work out, so good I fall short of a personal best by a meagre 200metres.

• 

• 

• 

I get back to the house and run a bath. I note that I am pissing blood due to the effort I put into exercise session. According to my oncologist if I push too hard it irritates my prostrate, hence the blood in the urine. My stance is I’m far more irritated with my cancerous prostate than it can be irritated by me. My bath is bath bombed and I enjoy the warmth and aroma of it while I read David Jason’s second volume of autobiography. Once sated I get out and join my partner in the lounge. It is Comic Relief night but also a rugby night so my evening is a mixture of sport and comically packaged charity appeal. It comes to an end and I write the blog against a background of squabbling vaccine spokesman and journalists, its a depressing backdrop of agendas and bickering, mostly rooted in the perceived haves and have nots. The overall sense is that England is doing well compared to the rest of the world. Tomorrow thank goodness is nearly all rugby although it would be nice be able to get into the garden and get some organising done.

Thursday rolls around again. Its a usual Thursday but starts with a phone call from a friend whose birthday it is. It was good to hear how someone was planning to celebrate and indulge in the midst of COVID lockdown. A fast bacon breakfast and then I am back in front of a screen for the first time today. A useful meeting with colleagues. Once over I head for the post office to send my son a letter. I always giggle quietly to myself on entering a post office wearing a beanie and a mask. I’m so tempted to shout “hands up” and see what happens but I restrain myself and just pop my letter on the scales. Home to a bowl of lunch muesli and back in front of the screen to host an open forum, to which two new people attended. A good and interesting session which leaves me staring into space for a while afterwards. The guy who tidies our garden has been and gone, having drunk tea, raked lawns and trimmed bamboo. Its time to train and I get in to my gear and head for the garage to row. I do 45 minutes and get a new personal best for the time. Go me, that was unexpected.

• 

• 

Training over I change and settle down to an evening of European football alongside my Scottish colleague on WhatsApp. As his team spiral to a defeat our exchanges get more terse and mildly xenophobic. By the time it had descended into a Saturday night brawl the game was gone. So for all the wrong reasons the evening turn out to be unusually entertaining. The fun over I start to write the blog to the background debate about vaccines, Europe, and looking for people to blame and noting that COVID is re-ravaging parts of Europe. I hanker after my garden, sunshine and friends and ponder on whether the email I got saying I do not have to shield from the 1st April is genuine or whether this is a result of a bored apparatchik having an April fools joke. It reminds me of the civil servant who thought it was fun to create Minimum Use Of Force Tactical Intervention (MUFTI) as the tittle for the training given to prison officers to manage violet behaviour. A mufti being an Islamic scholar who may issue fatwa or nonbinding opinions on law. At the time of its inception the common rumour put around was that MUFTI meant subduing the unbeliever, hence the perception that someone was making a gratuitous joke of the role of the prison staff. On that note I close the blog and wander off to bed hoping to sleep for more than two hours at a time, one of the side effects of my meds. Fun eh.

Today, Wednesday, has been a screen free day due to yesterdays eye rippling. I have found that what I suffered was an ocular migraine. Apparently over doing the screen experience can trigger this phenomenon. Having a screen break and blinking a lot seems to do the trick for most people and it has certainly worked for me. So I am back to blog.

My day started early as I got out of bed to take my antibiotics and then retreated back to bed with my phone to check emails. Nothing interesting but a surprise phone call from a friend to start the day. I have breakfast and attend to some early parcels that have arrived including my new head torch. A spiffing new gadget that will make things and art easier. I demonstrate it to my daughter who immediately dubs me a “gadget whore”, she might be right but I play anyway.

• 

• 

I retreat to the shed and write a brief letter to my son in Stockholm. I have changed into my training gear and set about doing an hour on the exercise bike. Its an okay session but a bit sluggish after yesterdays rowing session where I upped the resistance level a notch every five minutes until I had reach maximum resistance. Today I feel that effort in my legs and shoulders. I press on and complete my session.

• 

• 

• 

I have to keep reminding myself that this is not an optional extra in my life, this is part of how I fight to stay alive for as long as possible in the best possible condition. Which makes the packet of mini eggs that I ate today a real luxury that in truth I cannot afford. To balance this I got the first photograph of the frogs in the pond as I left the shed post session. I’ve seen two at the same time so I know I have a population.

So all frogged up I return to the house, change and set about preparing baked cod for tea. Its a new recipe using cherry tomatoes, garlic, lemon and oil to bake the cod fillets in. Served with cheesy mustard mash and peas it goes down a treat. I clear the kitchen and then settle down to watch some football and the very funny Bill Bailey. So it comes time to write the blog and see if my eyes can do screen time again. Thankfully they can, which is good as I have screen time meetings tomorrow.

First job of this Tuesday is to get up and get the antibiotics into me. Washed down with hot black coffee. There is then the hours wait before I can eat. I manage breakfast just before I log into my mornings training session.

Its 22:32 and my eyes have gone, I cannot do any more screen today.

It’s Monday, again, so here we go again, its up early and first thing to do is to get my antibiotics down me. I do that and check my emails. Bits and bobs done I head for the shed with my mobile office back pack with me. I settle down in front of my shed desk and survey the landscape in front of me, my life summed up.

I settle down to write letters and cards for the morning. At one point I collect my morning post and find a letter from a friend who has not written before and has just recovered from a nasty spell in hospital. It was a lovely surprise and it immediately extended my correspondence list. I wrote more cards and letters, watching the clock so I could eat as soon as possible. The rule is either take the antibiotics an hour before I eat or two hours after I eat. Its playing havoc with my eating routine. At the moment it concertinas the end of my day so I end up taking the antibiotics only three hours apart. So I continue writing till I get to the end of my list of people I owe a letter. The list was long so some people get a card, brief and saying I had not forgotten them and a letter will eventually get to them. My only interruption is a call from a friend who is in her shed on her allotment. We talk fences and garden rooms with some growing chat built in. Time to post my treasure and have some. I trot to the post box and return to muesli and alpro to sustain me.

Its sods law, when I get to my laptop there are more messages to deal with so I spend time rejigging some presentation slides, and preparing for tomorrows training session. I get to the point where I can do no more and know its time to train. I really do not want to train, I’m not in the mood and its a pain. I get myself up stairs and get myself into my training gear and head back to the shed, noting a frog in the pond as I pass by. I get myself onto the bike, get my aerobic mask on and get going. My body really does not want to do this but I get through the ten minute mask section and then carry on for the remainder of the hour. Its been a while since I thought of quitting a session but it crossed my mind today.

• 

• 

• 

I get to the end and get back in the house as soon as I can and head for the bath. I need the warmth and comfort of a good bath. I select which bath bomb I am going to use and decide I need cute one to make me feel better.

I sink into the warm water and throw my bunny friend in with me and watch the magic as my bath is transformed.

Its a delightful time soaking and watching the waters change. I read another chapter of an autobiography as I rest until I hear the call to eat. I eat my meal and take a call from a colleague about tomorrows session then it was onto the evenings viewing and writing the blog. Mid way through the evening Tesco deliver adn there is the usual scramble to get everything away. As I write the blog I experience a hot flush, I still get these regularly and they frequently wake me at night. I think I am getting tired of the whole thing but I remind myself that I am fortunate.

Mothering Sunday. It is also weigh in day for me so I get to the scales and leap on to see if I have earned my rest day and my treat.

90.3 Kilos

I am pleased and mildly surprised but hey go me. My partner had slipped out to the shop to get wrapping paper and some odds and ends and returns. Now for mothers day. So its me to make breakfast,which I do. We share a family breakfast and mothering Sunday cards and presents. Once we are replete we finish cards for our youngest daughter birthday and one of our nieces birthday. We ring our youngest daughter and chat to her for a while and arrange to ring her again on her birthday on Tuesday. I’ve cleared the kitchen and then we are ready to take cards to the post office and to drop off a present at my partners brothers house in the village. We have a rare and socially distanced doorstep chat, which is a pleasant diversion from the usual isolation. We walk home and I settle down to watch the international rugby as my weekly wash gets on with itself. The game is a good one and lives up to expectations. With the game over it was time to prepare the mothers day tea. I had managed to get some fresh trout sent to me so I dragged out my fish kettle, dressed the trout and got them gently bubbling away in white wine.

While waiting for the fish to steam I ring my sister and have a long chat and catch up with each other. Always an interesting chat and this was no different as we talked about art, magazines and eh COVID adventure. By the time we are through its time to serve the meal. It is a delight to eat a different protein and follow it up with white chocolate cheese cake. Post meal coffee and for my partner a brandy. The evening is all Bloodlands and blog before the football highlights. Its all normal family life today but tomorrow my partner gets the vaccination and I will retreat to the shed fort the day. This week requires the final push to 90 kilos or less.

Saturday and its a get up and go Saturday. First a coffee in bed that is interrupted by a knock on the door.. Who knocks the door during COVID? A florist delivering mothers day flowers from our youngest daughter. They are lovely.

Then its a swift trip to the chemist to collect my antibiotics. I am pleased that they are waiting for me and I return home eager to start getting them down me and start saying farewell to the red thing in my face. My box of goodies basically tell me I am taking penicillin and in a big dose, 500mg four times a day. I think the idea is to blast me.

So I down my first big 500mg baby and then potter for half an hour before I eat breakfast. According to the instructions on the box I am to take these on an empty stomach, either an hour before eating or two hours after eating. That’s going to be a pain in the arse trying to get the timing of meals, activities and drug taking. Having sorted a few things my partner adn I drive to the garden centre to pick up a basket of plants for her mum and a pie for us. We take them straight over to her mothers house where my partner delivers them while I stay shielded in the car. Before we leave I have a chat through the window with her. She looks happy to be home and laughed when I showed her how long my hair now is. We drove home and I settled down to watch the international rugby for the afternoon. Two good matches during which I nibbled crisps and figs over a 0% beer. During half time of the second match I changed into my training gear and as soon as England had dispatched the French in a tense end to end match I headed for the shed. A good session on the bike that takes me from daylight to darkness.

• 

• 

• 

I return to the house and find tea ready, so I eat. Its late evening now and I start the blog to the accompaniment of a film wallpaper on the TV. Usual violent ex army father looking for daughter, believed dead but alive, not seen each other for years. Wooden acting for a basic english american script. So I shall finish this and then prepare for mothers, more antibiotics and maybe a bath or football.

Friday and the first things to say is my web page has changed its font for no reason and I cannot find out how to get it back to its original form. Ah Ha I’ve sorted it, you are now reading Merriweather font. That will do for now.

So its Friday and I am up early to ring the GP for an appointment. I get through and rather than getting a time to see the doctor I get instructions of how to send pictures of my lumpy cheek to the doctor so she can look at it and ring me back. I am so pleased I haven’t got piles. So I send my pictures and then wait. I have breakfast and get ready for the training session I am going on for the morning. The doctor rings and asks me questions and comes to the conclusion that she needs to see my face, face to face. We agree 4:30. I spend the morning attending a training on therapeutic community values and standards. There are familiar faces, colleagues and friends who attend adn debate issues. It was a useful reminder of not only the work but also how much I miss the friends I have in the world of therapeutic communities. During the session I am also keeping an eye on the arrangements for the training the EE team are delivering next week. There are complications that need to be dealt with. At the end of the morning it was sad to say farewell to people who are, by and large, like minded good people. I had no time to rest as I was into another meeting almost immediately. This meeting was arranged at short notice to deal with next weeks training session. There has been a lot of toing and froing over this training and we need to get ourselves sorted. So we spend the hour deciding who is delivering what and agreeing the final format. We get there relatively painlessly and pick up the bits of work we need to do. At last I am free, I fill in my time sheet that I use to keep track of my activity and grab a coffee. There is time to train and shower before getting to the GP. I hit the garage and row for half an hour and put in a really decent session.

• 

• 

Straight to the shower post training and a general fluffing and grooming for the sake of the doctor. I even shave and put on proper trousers, I guess I might be more anxious than I am willing to admit. I drive to the GP and phone in. I wait for the return call and when it comes I make my way to the back door of the surgery. There is the doctor in PPE and I am ushered into a consulting room. She is a chirpy thing this doctor and advances on me with a Sherlock Holmes type magnifying glass. She goes Mmmmm and Ahhh and retreats to her desk telling me to mask up again. Apparently I have a blocked sebaceous duct and I need antibiotics. If it does not reduce in a week I have to go back and she will consider a biopsy . There is a rare outside chance that it could related to my prostate cancer, but it is an outside probability. With any luck the thing will come to a head and explode relieving everyone. I return home and get a call from a friend whose IT had thrown her out of this mornings training before the end. We catch up with what she had missed. I settle into an evening of chicken stew and live rugby . I watch the game but keep an eye on Brentford’s score on my phone and whoop when they win. So after an evening of second hand sport I start to write the blog.

Thursday, a work day and this one was full of changes. Having woken up late I have a quick breakfast and drugs then hit the screen at 10am but not before taking a brief call from a friend.A colleague withdraws from a booked session next week so the rest of us rejig our roles and input into the session. A colleague from the central team joins us and we continue defining the work. By the end of the meeting I have new work to do and a short timetable to do it in. I immediately update my brief bio and circulate it and grab a smoothie for lunch before hosting an open forum for an hour and a quarter. As soon as it is over I start the work on the training session outline and requirements. By four o’clock its done and circulated. Tomorrow the team will finalise the details and we might even rehearse! At last I am free to train, but first I ring the doctor surgery to arrange to get an appointment tomorrow. The lump on my face is sore and appears to be getting bigger so I’m doing what my youngest daughter told me to do. I do not feel like training today but my friend had earlier nudged me and reminded me that I do this to stay alive. So I head for the shed and the bike.

• 

• 

• 

I get back to the house, change and sit down to tuna pasta and a football match. That is how my evening went till I set to and write the blog. Its strange, I guess from the outside I look like a healthy, normal and quite fit person, in fact, in quite good condition for a 72 year old. My blog suggests I am active and busy, which is more or less true. Yet here I am with my battle with cancer and all that entails. This phase seems a strange phase to be in but it needs to last I’ve too much left to do and people to see.