Saturday, and what a day. Up very early as Doobies deliver a new garden parasol at 7:30 in the morning. Once it arrived I had time to put loads of washing in. While the washing machine hummed away I boxed up the clothes destined for the charity shop. As soon as the clock hit nine o’clock I was off to the nearest Age UK. They seemed pleased to receive my boxes of labeled goodies and quickly squirreled them away whilst I drove off relieved to have space in the garage again to put the bench out. Stopping on the way home I check the car tyres and fill the tank. Home to a bacon bagel and the challenge of assembling the parasol. I put the jigsaw together and found some paving slabs to act as the counter weight, so the transformation went well.

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At about 1 o’clock we got the news that one of my nephews partner had given birth to a baby girl. A new addition to the family, which is exciting news and good news at a time of difficulty. There is a flurry of hurray’s and congratulations and the day seems to be good. We would not get to know the new arrivals name until the next day, which turns out to be a beautiful name and one that as a flowers name really appeals to me. It is now spring proper and is confirmed as I notice that one of the bulb planted pots is actually coming to life.

I settle down to watch the English women’s rugby team grind out a win against the french, a reasonable afternoons entertainment. We eat tea and wait the arrival of our youngest daughter who has been visiting friends over Birmingham way. She arrives and settles in as we sit as a family to watch the Sound of Metal. A lovely film with real impact, I recommend it to anyone who likes people.

I find my way to football highlights post the film and then tiredly go to bed.

Sunday, another up early day for today we go to buy sparkles. But first of course I need to weigh in. I have not trained all week and expect a considerable weight gain. I am wrong:

90.9 Kilos.

The same as last week, my weight has held steady, I am amazed. I silently determine to get back to training next week. Its medicine and part of the battle, I cannot afford the luxury of anymore rest.

A croissant breakfast with fresh coffee and we are off to town. Its the first time of actually going into town for just over a year, its strange, deserted like a wild west town waiting for the invasion of tumble weed. We get to the shopping centre before the shops open and do some window shopping of the jewelers. We arrive at one and hang about outside in our masks. An assistant in the shop is preparing the window display, she is smiley and catches our eye. What follows is a charming non verbal, smiling, pointing and laughing conversation. When the shutters go up we enter and renew the conversation with the luxury of words to add to it. Soon we are sitting round a table with a perspex divider trying on diamond engagement rings. One by one the options fall by the wayside as my youngest daughter faced with the reality of rings, of cuts, of ornamentation, of types of metal and designs finds that her likes are somewhat different than her expectations. Gradually she moves from option to option and as she does so refines her choices and appreciations. Eventually she settles on a single stone set in platinum, elegant, timeless and refined. Then comes the discussion of size,which turns out to be more tricky than anticipated. The difference between a size L and a size L+ becomes a polite but titanic struggle of negotiation. The sales person wedded (no pun intended) to size L, my daughter unconvinced and instinctively knowing the L+ is for her digs in. In the end there can only be one winner, the customer is always right. My daughter decides on L+ and that means they will have to make one her size and she is willing to wait the weeks it will take. The transaction takes place and she is all smiles. I am pleased to have been there.

We return home to coffee and recollections. We sit and drink and eat cheesecake until its time for my daughter to drive home. I have messages from friends and hear how the world is gardening. It is after this that we learn the name of the new baby. Spring continues to spring. The evening beckons and we prepare and eat tea, I write the blog while waiting for the Line of Duty to come on. Tomorrow is my 28 day injection day so I have been loading with paracetamol all day. Not my favourite time of the month, time to fight again.

Thursday was a work day. A day when I chatted to colleagues, hosted an Open Forum, collected my next months drugs, took a walk and did not train again due to a nagging pain in my side. The relief was a chance for a chat with a friend in the late afternoon, and a chance to compare notes on the salugenic nature of the real world or the lack of it. A day rounded off by watching Leicester win a football match and significantly increase their chances of playing in Europe next year.

Friday arrives and the intention is to get to the shed to type poems. No chance. The morning had all sorts of surprises for me. I found that the local charity shop that usual benefits from the families munificence was temporarily closed. As this transaction is not really one of help as we want something back, like garage space, this is really a business deal. So I had to find another charity shop that was open for business and willing to deal. I found one and rung them. Not to day thank you but tomorrow or next week was the response. So as soon as the new parasol is delivered tomorrow I am off to deliver boxes of cast offs. With that out of the way I found an email asking for the tittle, abstract and bio of a presentation I have agreed to give in July for MB3. I had to check what it was going to be about,the required length and duration, but with these ascertained I set about drafting them. Once done they were sent off in to the void to the other presenters ad organisers to ensure that we did not tread on each others presentations. I also offered to supervise someone who was working in a therapeutic community but it turned out that she was working with children, not an area of expertise for me so I pointed her in others direction. A surprise phone call from an old colleague and friend who had listened to the podcast of me talking about my prison days. I had not realised till yesterday that after the end of my bit the presenters discussed the conversation, they were very kind. A lunchtime walk and a bacon bagel and I finally made it to the shed. I wrote letters adn WhatsApp messages adn then typed up more poetry (poetry is not really the right word as I have got to the toe curling adolescent stuff). I have at last got down to the last 18. I might by the end of the weekend actually have them all in electronic form, the I can spend my evenings organising the whole lot and going back to exploring how to self publish. During the afternoon I shared a video with friends and family that had amused me, I share it below fro light relief.

I leave the shed as I can no longer stand the noise of the compressor that a two away neighbour is using. The neighbour is either running a construction business from home or he/she is power washing everything he/she owns including their children. We (oops almost got stuck in a pronoun then), I start to write the blog before tea and plan my evenings entertainment. I fancy watching the Sound of Metal which got a BAFTA for best music.

Wednesday, up early, shower and in to the car to go to the hospital for my ultra sound scan of my facial lump. To cut a moderately long story short the outcome was that my lump is a cerbacious cyst and not some nasty cancerous growth. Result. So I drive home and celebrate with a late morning bacon bagel and a walk round the village with my partner. My new summer shorts arrive which are now squirreled away to wait for the sun. So with the afternoon in front of me I retreat to the shed and continue to type up poems. I beaver away at this all afternoon until I have only another 29 left to do. The guy who does the things in the garden that I am too lazy to do arrives and I give him todays list of tasks, which after a cup of strong builders teas he gets on with. I retreat to the house and await tea. We do chicken wraps before I settle down with pain killers to dull the pain in my side. I think I’ve pulled the muscles in my side. On checking my emails I find that the podcast I did has been published. This is the link; https://lockedupliving.podbean.com/

Its about an hour long so be prepared for that. My evening is the Great British Sewing Bee and writing the blog.

Tuesday a shed day. Breakfast and off to the shed. I wrote letters and then settled down to type yet more of my poems into a digital format. I stick at all morning until I crave noodles for lunch. Noodled out, I post my morning letters and return to the shed in my training gear. I type more poems all afternoon and finally get to the last 39. I take a call from a friend and we chat about the continuing frustrations and challenges of COVID. Too late to train I return to the house, clear the kitchen and prepare a cod dish. Tea done, I watch a little television, put bins out and prepare for my visit to the hospital tomorrow. That done I write the blog, which today was always going to be short.

I decided not to train today as I think I have a pulled muscle in my side and it twinges a bit, so I am being kind to myself. I will see how it goes tomorrow when I walk down to the hospital appointment. I did manage to snap a rather lovely moth that visited today.

Monday and only one thing on my mind, stepping stones. There are 14 stepping stones waiting to be embedded in one of the grass areas of the garden. Its not a lawn, lawns are flat and even, root free and evenly green. My green areas are not flat, root free or evenly covered in grass. So laying these stepping stones is going to be far from simple. A quick breakfast and I am into my work clothes, steely toe capped boots and arm fulls of tools. I’m out in the garden and I am at it. I am at it for hours. At lunchtime it was hot and I continued and then wonder why I felt dizzy when I got up too quickly from digging out and preparing another bed for another stepping stone. Of course taking drugs to reduce hypertension and a blood thinner probably did not help. I take a time out with a timely cheese sandwich and then I am at it again. I get to the last three, which are due to go where the most roots are running through the ground. Its a real bastard getting them out but I get there. Every stone down and spirit level checked so that they are even, even if the grassy ground is not. So I have flat stones in a slanting bumpy piece of grass.

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I finally feel I have finished, its gone six o’clock and I am tired. I take a call from a friend who has been to the sea and chat for a while. I’m reminded that eight years ago this was my retirement night out. Its been an interesting and in many ways a revelatory eight years. I pack away my tools and contemplate my garden and take pictures of what catches my eye.

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I change and eat tea that my partner has prepared. During the meal Tesco deliver unannounced. Then its a bath bomb bath for me, radio 4 and Just a Minute to amuse me. I drift and rest and think about how my life in “retirement has been”. The best and worst of times. Never boring, always stimulating and surprising. That’s not a bad eight years., except for the life threatening scary bits, but I’m still here. I climb out the bath and write the blog to NCIS in the background. Tomorrow I return to the shed to type and write.

Sunday, sunny and inviting. A slow start with a croissant breakfast as later we have the adventure of going to friends for a Sunday roast. We are meandering through, my partner goes to the shed to use the exercise bike, I am organising a new food and training diary and transferring over my training personal bests. I get a phone call from my youngest daughter who is asking where her usual post breakfast facetime call? I chat and take the phone to the shed so she can talk to her mother. After a short time I am summoned to the facetime call now taking place, apparently my daughter want to talk to us both. She tells us that her partner has asked her to marry him and she has said yes. There is much whooping and congratulations. There is no timetable as yet but she is clear that she wants a sparkly ring.

After a shower I get ready to drive the family to a friends for lunch. We arrive with bottles of drink, a plant and truffles and are shown to the garden where there are bowls of nibbles and drinks await. The sun shines and we settle down to chatting before lunch. It seems there are things talk about as we compare notes on surviving COVID and exchange news. The lunch is fabulous, it is so deliciously luxurious to eat a meal that has been cooked by someone else. A roast followed by an ice cream, fruit and honeycomb sweet and rounded off with cheese, biscuits and grapes. Sitting replete we sip coffee and nibble truffles. We talk hedgehogs, spaniels, voluntary work, and a host of other things, I note that a crescent moon has risen in a clear blue sky. Before we know it six o’clock has come around and its time to go and we take our farewells jokingly pointing out that we would help with the washing up but that we are not allowed inside. I drive the family home and watch Leicester win the FA cup semifinal. Of course I am hooked on The Line of Duty and watch the drama with increasing loss of commitment. Of course the end leaves in the midst of gunshots and blackness. I wrote the blog to the background of Mock the Week and reflect on tomorrows tasks; charity shop run, stepping stone leveling, training and blog. Its all just stuff.

Saturday, a slow start that gets to breakfast, drugs and weekly filling of the drugs wallet quickly. During breakfast our vegetable delivery arrives, so post breakfast clear away we stow the vegetables and fruit. Then I am into my working gear and we make a planned trip to the garden centre to buy bacon, sweets and a plant for a friend. Once home I get into the garden and prepare to lift the old stepping stones and set out the new ones. I get the new ones down in the new line and realise I am at least three short. Its one of those oh bugger moments. So I get in the car and go with my partner to our alternative garden centre (the cheap one) to get more new stepping stones, more grit sand to bed them, and a small alpine plant for one of the shallow planters. In an moment of realisation we also get three rolls of turf to repair the grass where the old stepping stones will come out. Home again and I return to the garden and lay out the new slabs to complete the pathway. Time to dig up the old ones with my trusty pickaxe. Oh yes I have a pickaxe and I am not scared to wield it. So after a little pickaxing I have a neat set of holes in the lawn and a neat line of new ones.

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So I work for a long time filling the old holes with compost and cutting turf into the spaces, watering them in and hoping for the best. I beaver away perfecting my technique as I go along until finally the holes are gone.

I decide enough is enough and pack my tools away. As a last moment of aesthetic relief I plant a small rockery plant in a shallow planter that once held one of my many doomed bonsai trees.

I return to the house, dump my work clothes and watch the semi final of the FA cup while eating tea. A dull game so I settle to watch a film, The Mauritanian, a true story of the defence of an alleged terrorist in Guantanamo. It is the background to me writing the blog, being mindful all the time and that I have yet to train today. Another late night is in the offing. Tomorrow I get to go to see friends for a meal, I wonder how I will do.

Friday, an early morning hospital appointment so I am up and ready to go by 8:45. My eldest daughter accompanies me on the drive into town. I drop her off to return a university library book and I walk down to the hospital. I’ve showered and dressed up, of course I have. A real shirt and trousers with a smart coat. I’m looking good apart from the cerbacious cyst, (that’s the hope), that glows mountainous on my cheek, the reason for my hospital visit. I’ve been referred by my GP into the cancer pathway just in case the facial volcano is cancerous and an off shoot of my metastatic prostate cancer. The up side is that the nhs gets it collective arse moving to get you into a process in two weeks. So I get to the hospital and don my mask as I wander down the familiar corridors and make my way to the maxillofacial department and present the receptionist with my letter and questionnaires. I sit down and get my book out of my backpack. I’ve played these hospital games before so I have come equipped. So I open my book and settle down.

So I’m just reading an interesting meeting between a secret masseuses and a drug dealer at a dire party when I get called to the consultant. I am put in a chair that seems designed to make waterboarding easy, but I am only asked questions to start with. The usual stuff, how long, how big, is it sore, as I say the usual. The consultant puts on gloves and then gets to measuring and fondling the lump like a gardener rolling a bulb between their fingers to test the solidness of it. So we chat some more about my mouth and jaw and I am taken for a walk to the specialist x-ray department up stairs. I stand with plastic in my mouth, my ear stud out as two boxes rotate around my head and making whirring noises and finish actually whistling a tune. I return to the maxillofacial waiting area and pull out my book again, but before I can get back to the interesting masseuse and her new found drug dealer crush, I am called back into the consultant to view my jaw x-rays. The consultant is happy that there is nothing going on in my jaw so her view that my lump is cheek based is confirmed. She decides to make an appointment for me to have the lump scanned and biopsied. They make an appointment for me there and then with the ultrasound department for next Wednesday. I am now free to go, they will make an appointment for me in two weeks time to get the results of the ultrasound. In the words of the consultant, “It looks like a horse but could be a zebra, but I reckon its a horse”. Apparently if it turns out to be a “horse” they can exorcise it. Oh good I think and wonder exactly what they means but I am patient and can wait to find that out. I could google it but a bit of me likes a surprise. I walk back to the car and get home to find that my daughter has just arrived home having caught a bus which broke down. I get the joy of an Amazon delivery, my new red training boots, actually they are my posing footwear to go with my new shorts.

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I’ve just had enough time to play with my new boots when the the guy we use to look after our trees arrives. We go into the back garden and I point out what I think needs doing, he listens attentively and then expertly and gently explains what actually needs doing and what makes good sense for the trees long term welfare. We chat for a while knowing that almost any quote he gives us we are likely to accept, his arguments about the work are so good. He leaves promising to send a quote soon. Time for me to get my washing in and to get ready to train. I go to the shed as this is a cycling day and clamber onto the bike with my training mask on. The heater is on full blast and I soon heat up to the point where I start to shed layers of upper wear. I notice that I have a degree of what I think is termed gynaecomastia or in lay persons terms I’m growing tits. The rest of the session seemed pointless after that. What is the point if all the effort I put in is useless against the chemical side effects of my treatment? Sexless and becoming a thing. That’s a major realignment of self image to be done.

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Post training I order the family Indian take away and wait for it to be delivered, which it is surprisingly quickly. My evening finds me folding my washing to put away, clearing the kitchen, watching Have I Got News For You and writing the blog. Tomorrow is a day I will spend in the garden laying stepping stones and training for the last time this week.

Thursday and a work day so its up, eat and log on. My first meeting is with colleagues and enables us to catch up and review where we are in the work. It is a useful space to keep a balance as we move forward. I have a little time to prepare before I host my weekly open forum. I do this in my training gear as I am determined to train early today. As usual the session passes quickly and is stimulating. I check emails and buy a new pair of casual trainers to go with new shorts I have on order. I am optimistic about a sunny summer. I clear the kitchen and retire to the garage to row for half an hour. I up the resistance level to the highest level I’ve tried to date. It is an effort and my arms complain at the extra effort.

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I return to the house and see the gardener arrive at the same time a friend rings for a chat. A good way to wind down from the training and emphasises the loss of face to face conversation. The family eat tea and then I and my partner swap the cars around so that my car is available in the morning for the trip to the hospital tomorrow. This done my partner prepares for her singing lesson and I check the paper work for my hospital visit tomorrow. Then I watch a football match that ends in time for me to watch The Great British Sewing Bee on i-player. I am hooked on the whole process of watching people create clothes, it is such a basic skill. It must be one of the most ancient crafts alongside hunting, cooking and growing stuff. At some point someone had to join two skins together to create a covering. After that it was an evolutionary force from survival to social flaunting. I write the blog earlyish so that I can have a bath in anticipation of tomorrows medical adventure. Although I have been busy today I feel the day has been mainly flat, I find myself wanting to be in my garden or in the shed typing up my poems, perhaps my priorities are shifting. Most of all I miss the real world of people in the flesh, so our planned outing on Sunday to meet a friends for outside scones is an excitement. Strangely when I read the blog back I find the subtitles of the day are missing and they are the moments of contact through calls or WhatsApp messages. Somehow the personal contacts seem too personal to share and I feel the need to keep them to myself. I think there is something in there about treasuring the interpersonal more than ever before and therefore wanting to hold onto them. So if your phone call, WhatsApp messages, email or text is not here it is because I’ve hoarded it away as a treasure.

Wednesday and its Elders meeting day and my second jab day. So a quick shower, after all you cant go to have a jab without smelling sweet and wearing clean underwear, breakfast and I log into the Elders meeting. It lasts an hour and a half and is people who are a delight. They are experienced, thoughtful and compassionate people mostly of an age and continuing to be inquisitive and wanting to make a contribution to the field of care and therapy. I always come away from these meetings with much to think about and a deep sense of thankfulness that I have such people in my life. Today was no different. In the middle of the meeting I get a phone call from the hospital asking me if I can go for my appointment on Friday rather then Monday. I eagerly agree. I end the meeting and move to lunch and getting ready for my jab trip. I take the car to the garage and check the tyres before driving to the medical centre in the next village. I am very early but it is no problem, there are no long queues as before and I walk straight in, Usual questions and info sheets and then at precisely 14:42 I am second jabbed. I am told not to drive for 15 minutes, I last ten. Instead of going home I head for the local garden centre and by a dozen new stepping stones and a couple of bags of sand to bed them in. As I am hauling them from the boot of the car to the garden a friend calls so I sit in the front garden chair and chat in the sunshine. I welcome interlude from the garden chore. I return to stacking the new stepping stones. I notice new flowers that have opened up in the garden and pause to take pictures of them.

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I clear the kitchen and then end up cooking the evening meal. I delay training to let my food settle and watch a football match on TV. By the time it ends its getting late, still there is training to be done so I head for the shed and an hour on the bike. Training at night is a strange experience looking out over a dark garden with solar lights.

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I return to the house and find the family all gone to bed so I settle down to write the blog. Its been a busy day and tomorrow will be the same.