Saturday, a brief lay in and then coffee before getting up for breakfast. By 11 o’clock I Am driving my partner and my youngest daughter adn her partner to Stoughton Howard Estate. Its raining when we get there so we pop in the automata work shop. Its full of delights and on feeding a couple of the displays we watch them spring to life.

We have lunch and then visit the art shops before walking down to the reservoir and watch the swans. Having soaked up the views we visit the garden centre and where we have warm drinks. The rai falls heavily adn the skies are very dark so we decide to return home.

Back home I watch some international rugby and open the days post. There is the report from the oncologist from my last review in which he says that my appointment with a new oncologist for radiotherapy, The wording is disturbing in that it suggests that I ‘m not being offered radio therapy only being assessed and on the basis of yet another scan to be done in April and another set of bloods. So I am in more of a hinterland than I thought. There is nothing I can do other than stay with my plan A, moisturise, train and diet. I move onto the solicitor’s letter regarding my sisters estate. There are questions that I need to discuss with my daughters and a letter to sign. There are other documents included, some of which are intriguing. The rugby end and dinner is ready.

After dinner I sit with my two daughters and we order flowers for my sisters funeral. We then discuss the solicitors letter and what we want to do. We cover a lot of issues and when we have finished I spend the rest of my evening drafting a letter to the solicitor. I run off copies for my daughters to see in the morning. Then I set about drafting the blog. I’m tired and send my end of day birthday message to a friend, take my meds and go to bed. Tomorrow there is more death admin to do adn instructions to be sent to the funeral directors.

Friday, I’m awake by 7:30 and brought coffee at 7:45. Bliss I can read for an hour adn a half before I get up. I continue with The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August. It is a compelling book and asks some interesting questions about repeated lives and what that might mean if the memories of each life are retained into the next life. I read until 9am and get up for my muesli breakfast and morning meds. I se the end of a 24 hour dance marathon in aid of Comic Relief and then tidy the kitchen. My partner returns from a physio session and after a while she goes out with my youngest daughter to the hair dressers and to go shopping for make up. With them gone I check my sisters redirected post. Nothing but advertising, so I write “return to sender, addressee deceased” on it and put it to one side to post later.

I decide to train and go and change into my gear. I set up my headphones and head for the garage where I strap into the rower and set off for an hours row. Its an okay session, burning off 800+ calories. It feels a tough session but the figures say it was okay.

While about to change out of my training gear I notice the garden guy has pulled up in his car so I abort my changing and go to see him with coffee and money. We talk about traveller funerals and the fact that we both like cash not plastic. I leave him to tidy things and cut clean edges to the front path. Once free I go for a shower. I notice when I am blow drying my hair that it is indeed getting quite long. It seems to me that newly washed and dried hair always seems longer, I’ve no idea why that should be. Before dressing I grab a dollop of E45 and give what I imagine is going to be the irradiated areas of my body a good moisturising. This is part of my pre-emptive self care before radiotherapy. All I need to do now is stop eating sweet stuff and train harder. So many “shoulds” and “oughts” that if only I did I would feel I was doing the best possible. As it is they serve as markers of failure or how far I fall short. Once dressed my partner and daughter return and I and my partner go food shopping at our local garden centre. Its basic stuff but I think we are going to do a rough approximation of a Christmas dinner. The only thing we cannot get is frozen peas so on my return home I and my eldest daughter walk to the shop to get some . There are times when making the effort is rewarded in unexpected ways. Today I was rewarded for my effort with a lovely rainbow.

Back home and feeling accomplished I download pictures and start to write the blog while nibbling away at a bag of mini eggs. I can feel my energy levels dropping rapidly and know that I am about to be overcome with fatigue even before the evening meal. I shall no doubt eat and retire to read until its time to take my night meds and have another go at getting a reasonable nights sleep. It is clear I’ve very few, if any spoons left.

Thursday and its my youngest daughters birthday and she and her partner are arriving to today. I get up and have breakfast and begin to plan the day. A friend calls and we talk for a long time catching up with how we are and how our respective families are doing. Its very valuable to me to be able to have these conversations, I always come away from them clearer about how I and others are. It is these conversations that crystallise some of the more nebulas issues that are floating around inside me. We end our conversation just as my youngest daughter and partner arrive outside.

We have lunch together and I see the first scan pictures of my new grandchild to be. My partner takes my two daughters to see their grandmother. I chat to my daughters partner for a while and then he has to go to a meeting as he is technically “working form home”. He is in our office adn will work from there tomorrow as well. I go the Shed and write a brief birthday note to a friend and replenish the hedgehog canteen. The Shed gets closed up and I post my letter before settling down to sort through the post, which now contains redirected mail from my sisters address to me. There are some documents in her mail that I copy and send to the solicitor just to make sure she is aware of the situation. Then its an early football match on the laptop.

The family gathers for dinner and we celebrate my youngest daughters birthday with chocolate cake, the opening of cards and presents and general birthday merriment. I watch some more football as I am tired and finally I draft the blog. I take my night meds and go to bed. Today has been a real mixture of emotions and it leaves me drained, I crave routine in which to do the basic self maintenance in but at the same time crave respite and idleness.

Wednesday and I wake quite early for me and read more chapters of The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August. Its about a man who lives and dies over an over into the same life but retaining the memories of each life from the moment of his birth. So each time he is born he is fully conscious as an adult of all his previous lives. Its a disturbing but intriguing read so far and I have a feeling that there is far more to come. I get up and find my eldest has camped in the lounge with her breakfast boiled eggs, which smell appalling, so I shoo her out of the lounge. I take my morning meds, clear the kitchen and put my washing in, it is then that I discover we have run out of honey. I dress and go to the village shop and then onto the village café for a full breakfast. In order to do the crosswords I borrow a pen and then sit reading, eating and fathoming the crossword. On my way back I meet my partner going to the doctors and we make a quick plan of action for the expected visitors. Once home I hang out my washing and start to do the days admin.

Its just chores then until I drop off a bag of shirts and suits to Age UK and pop into the chiropodist to change my appointment next week. By the time I get home more death admin has arrived. My new book from Amazon arrives, Newton’s The System of the World. Its a slim volume and I set about reading it. Clearly Newton was a bit on the bright side, I get lost in the maths but I now get how tides work. I go shopping and get additional goodies for tonight’s tea and tomorrows birthday celebrations. By now I am tired and its a drift into the evening as I find out my youngest daughter is not coming today but is going to arrive tomorrow. An evening of pizza, TV football and drafting the blog. It feels like I am doing everything except train. This feels like survival but I shall make sure I moisturise before I go to sleep tonight, its part of my radiotherapy preparation. Life is becoming more weird.

I wake at 9 o’clock to an empty house and sleepily have breakfast and morning meds. I sort out some odds and ends and then drive to a friends house for coffee. I post the broadcast details of my sisters funeral on the way. My friend drives us to the Staunton Harold Estate where we go for a walk around the grounds. As we walk past the peacock pen the male suddenly displays its tail and provides an unexpected treat.

We continue our walk around the grounds and down to the lake to feed the swans and ducks. There were a large number of coot and moorhen but no sign of a previously spotted egret.

Lunch follows after looking round the arts and crafts shops and studios in the courtyard complex. Over a tasty lunch I talk at length with my friend about the effects of being ill and the effect that has on those around us. I certainly recognise that my own cancer makes me self absorbed at times and I know that this makes me insensitive to what is going on for the other members of my family. We visited the on sight garden centre and finally found ourselves in the automata workshop. A strange little shop inhabited by a single small man making all sorts of moving objects. Not only were there owls, fairies and machines all moving in he shop but also objects made for the film industry and theatre. There is a case were the two Totos made for the stage production of The Wizard of Oz. On the wall was mounted the original parrot headed umbrella that was carried by Mary Poppins. The small man who was busy building his latest creation was a mine of information and was someone who had been a builder of automata all his life and remain fascinated by who was making what and what was new in his world. My friend drove us back from where I drove home feeling that I had had a good day, out in the open air and having had a conversation that I would not have had at home. I conversation that would change the conversations I would have at home.

I get home, realise I have missed a call from a friend and start my usual chores. It being Tuesday I get the bins put out. There is post. Letters from people sending condolences and describing their relationship with my sister. I sit and chat to my eldest daughter till my partner returns from work. So the household slides into the evening, with tea and a televised football match. I take my evening meds and draft the blog. Today has been a good day, an oasis in what feels a bit desert like at the moment. Life will get busy again tomorrow as my youngest daughter is due to arrive with her partner and we move towards Mothering Sunday.

Monday, another week and more coffee. I’m up early, not sure why because once I am up I am throat deep in death admin. After morning meds mind you. It goes on all morning emailing funeral directors adn trying to get all the materials for the ceremony together. After while I can do no more so spend some time parcelling old shirts up to go to sod the aged. I move all my ice hockey jersey to my hanging space so they are all together and easily accessible. There is time for lunch and then I am back at death admin, sending out the webcast information that people require. Tesco deliver adn my partner goes to the dentist. I plough on with getting stamps for a new batch of notifications and grab eggs as well.

I get back to find a new book gift has arrived. It is a real surprise, it is Claire North’s The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August. I sneak a peek and I am immediately intrigued.

The evening arrives and with it a call from the appointed Celebrant, who askes me about my dead sister and what thoughts I have about the ceremony and the content. We chat and exchange contact details. After that its TV and draft the blog. I find the admin tiring. I find the raking through old family history particularly taxing. However now its time for meds and sleep.

Sunday, and I wake up slightly groggy. I weigh myself and feel depressed by the 98.5 kilos that stares back at me. In truth I am not surprised, I’ve over indulged this week mainly by way of comfort eating. Need to restart on Monday and give myself the goal of being fit and lighter by my first radiotherapy sessions in May. My partner and I chat before getting up for breakfast and morning meds. After a large breakfast there is the usual Sunday face time with my youngest daughter. We chat and make plans for the coming weeks visit. After the call I continue ot respond to people sending condolences and putting together the electronic file of material for the funereal. My partner books us into a Spa for a couple of days during her time off in a couple of weeks time and then goes to the gym. After moving my car I notice how well the crocus and narcissus have survived the snow, which has now melted. Once again my garden reminds me of how Spring is on the way and that life moves on.

Having got myself organised I finally get myself ready to train. Its an effort but I make it into the garage. I strap in and set out on a 45 minute session. It goes reasonably well and I burn off 600+ calories.

I record the session and get out of my kit before settling down to dinner. I continue to do some death admin and then watch the final episode ever of Endeavour. The usual Sunday ritual of doing the Tesco order is done before I get down to drafting the blog. I take my meds and go to bed thinking that I might go to the gym tomorrow.

Saturday, its a slow start. Coffee and a bacon sandwich for breakfast and my fortnightly ritual of filling my drug wallets for the coming weeks. I clear the car of snow and then drive myself and partner to the garden centre to food shop for the next couple of days.

Before I know it I am in the monthly poetry Statnza zoom meeting. I spend two hours listening to and talking about the poetry that people have presented. In the midst of this public forum I realise with horror that my poem that I have proudly thought contained no “e” in fact contained two. Once again I had fallen foul of of my dyslexia. I had to publicly declare my poem a failure and a botched experiment. Such is the life of a dyslexic. The days post brings my can of E45 moisturiser with which I plan to pre-empt the soreness side effect of radiotherapy. Also in the post are a couple of condolence cards. It reminds that there is still admin to do around my sisters death. I reflected that many of her peers are older and infirmed and will not be able to attend the funereal in person. I decide to explore the possibility of “Zooming” it with the funereal directors and the crematorium. It needs to be done quickly so that I can send the link out if its possible.

I sit and watch England get thrashed by the French at rugby. Its a dismal display. The family sit down to a roast dinner before sinking into the evening and a Luther film. The football highlights tonight were just that, no presenters or pundits due to the Lineker controversy going on. Strange how a government objects to people suggesting they may be using language redolent of 1930s Nazi sentiments. Good to see his colleagues have stood by him. I draft the blog and then go to bed with the thought of a free day before me.

Friday and it still snowing. I have coffee, get up and then have breakfast and my morning meds. I look out over my front garden and all my crocus and narcissus are drowned in snow. Here and there a single stem waves like a flag of spring.

I go to the Shed and spend my morning writing letters. At lunch time I take a break and then returned to the Shed to finish my letters. When finished I return to the house and pick up my Amazon deliver. My E45 moisturiser has arrived as part of my pre radiotherapy regime. I check my emails and run off the poems that are coming in for tomorrows Stanza meeting. When I have read them through I go to the post office to send todays letters. I pick up some treats and then go home. I finally get my training kit on and head for the garage. I strap into the rower and set of for an hours session. When I come to record the outcome of the session I realise that it has been 16 days since I last trained. An understandable time given what’s going on at the moment but it is far too long. Its no wonder I’ve been feeling crap and dissatisfied with myself recently. I burn more than 800+ calories and go over the 13 kilometre mark for the first time in a long time.

Before getting out of my training gear I hoover the lounge and stairs. I change and then settle in to the evening. There are messages related to sorting out my sisters estate and I have created files to cope with the management of it. I settle into the early evening with tea and a rugby match followed by TV series. I start to flag and draft the blog before taking my night meds and going to bed to read through tomorrow’s poems again.

Thursday and I wake. I drink coffee and finish reading Perfume. Breakfast and meds follow and then I go to the Shed. It feels an age since I was in my Shed. I light the scented candles, turn the heater on and begin to write letters. I am at my writing table for the morning until my partner entices me back to the house with bacon sandwiches. All morning it snows as I sit and write.

The bacon sandwich goes down a treat. I return to the Shed in time to take a call from a friend. We chat for a while and catch up with our situations. It is good to hear someone outside the family and to hear about others lives. I return to writing letters until I can no more. I pack the Shed up and return to the house and go to the post office to send my letters on their way and to stock up on treats. Back home I read the paper and do the crosswords before selecting which poem I am going to take to the Poetry Stanza on Saturday. I am feeling slightly disconnected and select a poem that I wrote as an exercise. I decided to write a poem without the letter “e” in it and let my unconscious decide on the content. I ended up with a typically bony Roland poem about radiotherapy, I think.

My radio
All knobs and dials
FM loud and proud
Blasts out 
And blastomas.
Its slaying a tumour
Its wild and a rumour
that pill and potion
Are in commotion.
Rock and rollology 
Biology and physiology
Burn, scar and cullolgy
On my radiology.
So go man go
And scorch away,
Tomorrows so
Another day.  
Old and gay,
I could spit
This cutting ray
This drill bit 
Sunk within
My skin,
Is no mix,
ain’t no fix.

I send my poem off into cyber space and then I settle down to an evening of football, tuna pasta and finally to draft the blog. I feel that I have done little but feel exhausted and full of stuff washing around in side me waiting for processing. I need to be physical, to train and to submit to the effort to clear my head. I take my meds and go to bed. It all feels a little desperate.